'■?^.^?\^:.■.'■H>^M>;/^•. ■%'.»,<■ • 

= ;ii|S!*: Si i:: 

■:i''v';^".->.,M',((;,('.;!;j;;,'; 

■;;ini!;Hi'n!i '!!^|':^;^:!'!:^^.;i^i::;:'^^■i■ 
■••"■' h.'^M^'-wO' ■?/'•■• ^ s-'^^^ ''■<■,■.;;; ■ ■' ' 







•^A v^ 



oo 



V 


' o 




^■' 


' , 


'p 




^ 


■^ 


•^5 


0^ 


%^' 


■'^^ 


V* 








**./»7 


'-* 








V 


^ ^ 


-0, > 










,»' .•■ 














f'^ " 




v\> 


'\ 






cP^ 


' c « ^' '^ -? -^^ 


^^ 










;?' * 


xO 


o^ 








\ 




\ 






/" 


■*^ 










v' ^ ^ ' « ^ 










-^^ 








^^. -0, 


v-^ A^^ 










' ^O 




c^" • 










■p 


•^o 


0^ 




^'^^ 


v*^ 



'tp 






'-<■ 



















%^^'*' .* 












'^\ 


'o e/' 




■>.-. y 


5 '^c 





.^^^/ -l^t^ y 'P 



^'. 



"^ ^ ~ ^ (CO 









05 %^ 



^"^ 






^-. ^<^^ 














^ i 



THE BEST 



ELIZABETHAN PLAYS: 



THE JEW OF MALTA, by Marlowe-, 

THE ALCHEMIST, by Jonsoni 

PHILASTER, by Beatimont and Fletcher; 

THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN, 

by Fletcher and Shakespeare ; 

THE DUCHESS OF MALE I, by Webster. 



EDITED BY 



WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER, 

Author of "The Confessions of Hermes, and other Poems"; "Hesper: 
An American Drama," Etc. 



3><K< 



BOSTON, U.S.A.: 
GINN & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. 
I 




■<y'^- 



^ 



I 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1890, by 

WILLIAM ROSCOE THAYER, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



All Rights Reserved. 




Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston, U.S.A. 
Presswork by Ginn & Company, Boston, U.S.A. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

PREF/.C 3 

Bibliography 20 

The Jew of Malta 21 

The Alchemist 113 

Philaster 261 

The Two Noble Kinsmen 363 

The Duchess of Malfi 489 



PREFACE. 



MY object in this volume is to present specimens of the 
best work of the five Elizabethan dramatists who 
stand highest among Shakespeare's contemporaries. Col- 
lections of separate scenes and special editions of single 
plays have frequently been made, and they have their value ; 
but it seemed to me that in binding together the master- 
pieces which follow, I should enable not only the general 
reader but also the college student to taste the quality of 
Shakespeare's rivals, and thereby to esteem the more ade- 
quately Shakespeare himself. Few persons possess the fif- 
teen or twenty large volumes in which the Elizabethan 
drama is published, and fewer still have the time or the 
patience to plod through many tedious or dirty pages in 
order to come upon the treasures they contain. For, just 
as a traveller in an Oriental city is often obliged to turn his 
eyes from some mosque or graceful minaret to the ground 
beneath his feet so as to avoid ordure and garbage, so the 
reader of the Elizabethan plays has his attention often dis- 
tracted, and his sense of decency shocked by the vulgarity 
of many passages in them. This coarseness was due in part 
to the habit of the time, when men spoke openly to each 
other and even to women on subjects about which we are, 
if not ignorant, at least reticent, and in part to the deliber- 
ate effort of the playwright to please the vulgarest persons 
in the audience. But as filth is always filth, though it be 

3 



4 PREFACE. 

thrust upon us in a work of art, or come to us along with 
much that is noble under the sanction of a great name, and 
as each age has more than enough of its own obscenity to 
flounder free from, without faUing back into the sty of a former 
generation, I have selected plays as little as possible tainted. 
Moreover, I have not scrupled to strike out phrases or lines 
where it seemed proper, being guided by decency and not 
by prudery ; yet it will not be found that this purging inter- 
feres in the least in the understanding of the following 
dramas, — a sufficient evidence, if evidence be needed, of 
the unnecessariness of obscenity from the artistic as from 
the ethical standpoint. 

In making my selection I had less difficulty than might 
have been expected. Of Marlowe's four chief works, Tam- 
burlaine is too crude and tedious, in spite of several fine 
passages ; Doctor Faustiis, though admirable in outline, lacks 
interest in detail, and is, besides, permanently superseded by 
the mighty work of Goethe ; finally, Edward II, though its 
scenes are knitted together more closely than those of its 
predecessors, and though its murder-scene is indeed masterly, 
yet as a whole lacks vivid characters. So I have chosen 
The Jew of Malta, which exhibits Marlowe's great qualities 
and their defects, and which will always be interesting from 
the comparisons to be made between Barabas and Shylock. 

Among Ben Jonson's plays two have ranked, and de- 
servedly ranked, foremost, — Volpone and The Alchemist. 
The former seems to me to be the superior, but its ineradi- 
cable coarseness precluded its publication in this volume ; 
whereas The Alchemist is both an admirable example of 
Jonson's skill in applying the rules of classic composition to 
an English subject, and a fair representative of his satire and 
erudition. It is, furthermore, a mirror in which are reflected 



PREFACE. 5 

with wonderful accuracy, the social, scientific, religious, and 
philosophical quacks of the time of James the First. 

Fifty-two plays are printed in the complete edition of the 
works of Beaumont and Fletcher, — many of them being 
wholly Fletcher's ; but only three of those which I have 
read come within my scope. These are The Maid's Tragedy, 
Valejifiniait, and Philastcr : the first two contain passages 
equal to the best their authors ever wrote, but they are be- 
smirched with so much coarseness, and brutality is so hope- 
lessly interwoven in their plots, that I was forced to reject 
them ; Philaster shows Beaumont and Fletcher at their best, 
and is thoroughly characteristic of their genius. 

The Two Noble Kinsmen, commonly attributed to 
Fletcher and Shakespeare, is surely one of the most beauti- 
ful plays of that period, and deserves from the public such 
admiration and popularity as it has long enjoyed from schol- 
ars. Its right to be published among Shakespeare's works 
is certainly equal to that of Heiuy VIII, and superior to 
that of some of the poorer plays which have few marks of 
his collaboration. 

Webster left two masterpieces, — The While Devil and 
The Duchess of Malfi ; both are great, but the latter excels, 
and is not only the most original and imaginative drama in 
this volume, but superior to every other Elizabethan tragedy 
except Shakespeare's best. 

In some measure, therefore, the reader can form from 
these five plays — supplemented, of course, by acquaint- 
ance with Shakespeare — some idea of the methods and 
range of the amazing dramatic inspiration in the reign of 
Elizabeth and the first James, — unsurpassed in the history 
of Hterature, and equalled only once, in Greece. The domi- 
nant influence was that of the Renaissance, transmitted to 



6 PREFACE. 

England by way of France, and modified by an intensely 
English patriotism, — the Renaissance, when classical learn- 
ing revived, when great discoveries in geography opened 
new lands and peoples to the view of Europe ; when a 
bolder commerce brought not only richer merchandise, but 
strange and fascinating lore, from the races of the Orient ; 
when the sway of a single religion was broken, and through- 
out Christendom men ordered their lives by new behefs; 
when science, assisted by experiment and criticism, began 
its conquest of nature ; when the legends of chivalry, and 
the traditions of the crusades, and mediaeval myths and su- 
perstitions, were still so fresh as to appeal to the imagina- 
tions while they no longer distorted the convictions of poets. 
It was the age when romance seemed real, and when the 
revelations of science seemed romantic. Curiosity, insati- 
able and enthusiastic, scrutinized all things. The divorce 
between passion and action, between the scholar and the 
man of affairs, had not yet been proclaimed : many-sided 
men were common, — philosophers were courtiers and dip- 
lomats ; soldiers were poets. Intense individualism produced 
extreme types of character, prodigies of virtue or monsters 
of wickedness. Political conditions, the strife of noble with 
noble and of king with king, the dangers and excitements 
of foreign voyages, awakened qualities and passions which 
in quieter times lie dormant. It was as if mankind con- 
spired to place the whole circle of its capacities on exhibi- 
tion. To the great stimulus of the recovered appreciation 
of classical antiquity was added the impulsion of that mod- 
ern spirit, which mysteriously and almost imperceptibly was 
remoulding society. And just as Bacon took all knowledge 
for his province, so the great poets of the age of Elizabeth 
took all human nature for theirs. Literary precedents and 



PREFACE. 7 

the conventional rules prescribed by writers of rhetorics and 
grammars did not hamper them. They were too busy en- 
deavoring to portray the mighty pageant sweeping before 
them, to rummage old attics for the musty colors and warped 
palettes of by-gone painters. 

Taking the implements at hand, — tj\e tedious moralities 
and the loosely spun miracle plays, — they soon improved 
upon them, soon invented a drama-form not so rigid as to 
be cramped, nor so loose as to be redundant, but articulate 
like a highly developed organism, and as elastic as the vari- 
ous material furnished by nature required. And for their 
metre they adopted and perfected a line susceptible of al- 
most infinite modulations, suited alike to the simplest nar- 
ration, and to the highest outbursts of passion, and to the 
most delicate whisperings of fancy. In their hands, blank 
verse became the peer of the Homeric hexameter, and of 
Dante's /e7-za n'ma, — a metre superior to that which any 
other modern language offers to its dramatic writers. 

To Christopher Marlowe is due the honor of having first 
shown the capacity of this " mighty line." We know but 
little about his life. He was born at Canterbury, and chris- 
tened there on Feb. 26, 1564, almost exactly two months 
before the date of Shakespeare's birth. He attended the 
King's School in his native place, and, in March, 1581, 
matriculated at Benet (now Corpus Christi) College, Cam- 
bridge, where he took a bachelor's degree two years later. 
In 1588 Tamburlaine was acted, and The Tragical History 
of Doctor Faustiis appeared a little later. Then followed 
The Jew of Alalia and Edward II. These, and The Mas- 
sacre of Pai'is, Dido (in Which he was assisted by Nash), 
some journeyman work on the three parts of Henry VI , 
and a fragmentary poem entitled Hero and Leander, — 



8 PREFACE. 

comparable with Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis, — were 
all that he had time to do before he was killed in a quarrel 
over a courtesan, at Deptford, June i, 1593. It is common, 
while deploring his early death, to speculate whether he 
might not, had he lived to maturity, have equalled Shake- 
speare himself; but such speculation seems to me to betray 
the uncritical temperament of those who indulge in it. We 
cannot reasonably doubt but that Marlowe, at forty, would 
have produced works far superior to any he has left : he had 
great powers, and they were surely ripening, but there is no 
indication that he could ever have excelled in two very im- 
portant fields, where Shakespeare is supreme, — in humor 
and in fancy. Humor is inborn, and shows itself early, — 
yet there are not among Marlowe's creations any germs of 
such characters as Falstaff or Mercutio ; fancy, again, is 
preeminently a young poet's gift, yet Marlowe's lack of it is 
almost as surprising as are the ease and confidence with 
which he steps upon the stage for the first time. There is no 
bashfulness, no imitation, but the air of one who feels sure of 
his powers. He was full of vitality, intoxicated at beholding 
the mighty forces which uphold and perpetuate the universe ; 
and he seems to have believed that man, let him but culti- 
vate his titanic possibilities, may master those forces, and 
cease to be their puppet. So his heroes are marvels of 
energy, devoting themselves to the acquisition of power 
which shall place them above the limitations of human na- 
ture : with Tamburlaine, it is desire of empire, — the whole 
world shall be his slave ; with Faustus, it is desire of knowl- 
edge and pleasure, — the mysteries of fate shall be revealed 
to him, and all delights shall be concentrated in a cup for 
him to quaff ; with Barabas, it is desire of gold, — he will 
have the means of exterminating all Malta to satisfy his ven- 



PREFACE. 9 

geance. Even Edward II, who seems an exception, illustrates 
the power of weakness, — if I may use an apparent paradox. 
For the most part, therefore, the personages of Marlowe's 
dramas are types of amazing passions, rather than sharply 
defined individuals : he did not attain the supreme excel- 
lence of dramatic characterization in which the type lives 
in the individual, as, for example, in Shylock. Vigor and 
exuberance, — those are the qualities which distinguish 
Marlowe's thought ; and in his rhythm we meet lines and 
passages, now informed by an imperial stateliness, now by a 
subtle unforgetable melody, to find parallels for which we 
must turn to Shakespeare himself. ' 

Of very different mettle was Ben Jonson, the posthumous 
son of a clergyman, born at Westminster in 1574, and edu- 
cated there at the famous school, then under Camden's 
direction. But the widow Jonson married a bricklayer, and 
young Ben was forced for a time to work at his step- father's 
trade. When he could endure this no longer, he ran away, 
joined a regiment in the Low Countries, and after a brief 
military service, turned up in London, where his first 
comedy, Every Man in his Humour, was produced in 1596. 
Then followed, in 1599, 1600, and 1601, Every Ma7i out of 
his Humour, Cynthia's Revels, and The Poetaster, comedies 
in which he satirized the foibles of the day, — and as, 
among other affectations, he laughed at the new romantic 
fashion of writing plays, he was in turn ridiculed by Dekker 
and Marston in Sati7'o?nastix. Yet, while they laughed at 
him, no man was so great a favorite as he among that illus- 
trious group of playwrights and poets which used to meet 
and carouse at the Mermaid ; and although, in spite of his 
protests, the Elizabethan drama steadily progressed along 
romantic lines, no plays were more popular than his. In 



lO PREFACE. 

1603 he wrote Sejanus, a tragedy; in 1605, Volpone ; in 
1609, The Silent Woman; in 16 10, The Alchemist ; in 161 1, 
another tragedy, Catiline. Eastward Ho, in which he had 
Chapman and Marston for collaborators, proved too strong 
a satire on the Scottish people for the taste of the Scotch- 
born James I, and its authors were imprisoned, only to be 
restored to liberty and favor a little while afterward. In 
1 6 19 Jonson was appointed Poet Laureate, with the usual 
perquisite of ^100, and a butt of canary from the royal 
cellars, every year. In his old age he published The Sad 
Shepherd, and, having outlived all his great companions, he 
died Aug. 16, 1^37. In erudition, he was reputed the 
most learned poet of his time, and it is even asserted that 
no other English poet except Milton has had a wider and 
more various knowledge than he. His models in the drama 
were the classic playwrights of Rome and Athens. Con- 
demning the romantic principles of his contemporaries, 
which led to excess and a luxuriant confusion, he insisted on 
a rigid observance of the three unities, of time, place, and 
subject. His own plays, constructed in obedience to the 
Aristotelian methods, are marvels of ingenuity. No other 
English plots are more homogeneous and skilful ; in none is 
there so httle superfluity, so few digressions. In scene after 
scene you behold the author compressing a spring, till its 
tension is ready for the final, sudden discharge ; yet he does 
this so adroitly, that your interest is excited from moment to 
moment, lest that discharge burst upon you unawares. In 
this respect he is the true descendant of the classic drama- 
tists, and the kinsman of the Frenchmen who, in the seven- 
teenth century, created the French drama on classic models. 
Unlike Marlowe, who sketches his plot but vaguely, and 
wanders whithersoever his love of splendor points, Jonson 



PREFACE. 1 1 

has drawn every detail before sitting down to write. His 
material is the humors — or, as we should now say, the 
moods — of mankind, rather than their elemental passions; 
he produces his effects by cumulation and repetition, rather 
than by the swift, single, perfect strokes of a Shakespeare 
or a Webster. In The Alchemist this is well illustrated : he 
proposes to expose a popular imposture ; to do this he in- 
troduces two varieties of the same species of quacks, and 
their female accomplice ; and then he marshals before us, 
not one or two gulls, but a whole flock of them, — an epi- 
cure, a bragging young gentleman from the country, a sanc- 
timonious Puritan, a simpleton of a clerk, a conceited 
tobacconist, — and we see how the same greed for unearned 
wealth affects each differently, yet drives all into a commu- 
nion of dupery. So clever a weaving of various threads in 
one compact web has rarely been achieved ; Jonson leaves 
no seams and no thrums in his work. He had not the high- 
est imagination : but he had its best substitutes, — judgment, 
taste, sense of form, and culture. 

As he is pre-eminently classic, so Beaumont and Fletcher 
are pre-eminently romantic. Most of the Elizabethan dra- 
matists sprang from lowly families : not so Francis Beau- 
mont, who came of noble stock. His father. Sir John 
Beaumont, was a Justice of the Common Pleas in Leicester- 
shire, where Francis was born in 1586. At the age of eleven 
he was admitted a gentleman commoner at Broadgate-hall 
(now Pembroke) College, Oxford. Going to London, he 
read law in the Inner Temple, but soon was drawn towards 
the stage. He formed a literary partnership with John 
Fletcher, and had already become renowned, when he was 
cut off by death in 161 5. Fletcher, whose father was Dean 
of Peterborough, and then Bishop of Worcester, was born 



1 2 PREFACE. 

at Rye, in Sussex, in December, 1579. We know little 
about him, except that he was educated at Benet College, 
Cambridge, went to London eariy, devoted himself to play- 
writing, died of the plague in 1625, and was buried at St. 
Saviour's, Southwark. An old tradition has it that Beaumont 
supplied judgment, and Fletcher fancy, to their joint produc- 
tions. Owing to the early death of the former, it is easy to 
separate those plays which they wrote together from those 
which Fletcher wrote alone, and by this process the reader 
who is curious can determine more or less accurately which 
parts should be assigned to Beaumont, and which to Fletcher, 
in their united works. That eminent critics, despite this 
clue, should have hitherto failed to agree, seems to indicate 
that no ultimate certainty can be reached, and that therefore 
opinions which have only probability for their basis ought 
not to be too vehemently attacked or defended. Be the 
division what it may, the quality which prevails in their 
dramas is the quaHty of romance. Their best heroes are 
earlier Hernanis, bred in the ideals of Castilian honor ; 
even their villains — and monstrous villains some of them 
are — utter very noble sentiments. You feel that such per- 
sons never existed, and yet you know the thoughts to be true, 
and you cannot resist the fascination, the glamour — if you 
will — of ideals borrowed from the age of chivalry. There 
is, in Beaumont and Fletcher, " a constant recognition of 
gentility," as Emerson has remarked ; this, and their pic- 
turesque descriptions, their genuine sentiment, and their 
occasional flashes of imagination reveaUng intense passion, 
constitute their chief merits, and interfuse through their 
dramas the spirit of romance I have noted. To be de- 
lightfully unnatural is their privilege at their best ; they 
approach the actual human nature of their time only on its 



PREFACE. 13 

most depraved side, and are abominably coarse at their 
worst. 

The Two Noble Kinsmen has furnished critics with a mul- 
titude of pleasant difficulties. Even a novice, in reading the 
play for the first time, must detect the impression of two 
different minds upon it ; and, since it was known that those 
two were Shakespeare and Fletcher, every resource of criti- 
cism has been employed to determine the share of each. 
The tests appHed have been intellectual and metrical : Has 
a given scene those imaginative qualities peculiar to Shake- 
speare ? Has its versification his familiar style ? The latter 
test is perhaps the more helpful ; for Fletcher adopted, 
whether from preference or carelessness, a form of blank 
verse by which he can usually be recognized. More fre- 
quently than any of his contemporaries, he writes hnes with 
a double ending. Again, Shakespeare employs " run-on 
lines" — those, that is, which do not stop at the end of a 
verse — much more freely than Fletcher. The construction 
of the play gives further hints. Besides the main story of 
the two Kinsmen, there is the subordinate story of the gaol- 
er's daughter. Her mad-scenes, drawn without pathos or 
much skill, are evidently copied from Ophelia's. Indeed, 
the style of the prose passages, and the commonplaceness 
of the secondary characters, afford other clues as to their 
authorship. Nevertheless, it must not be inferred that all 
the inferior work is Fletcher's ; one of the finest scenes in 
the play — the dialogue of Palamon and Arcite in prison — 
was almost certainly written by him. Concerning the date 
of its composition, we have only vague suggestions. It must 
have come between 1603 or 1604, — the latest date assigned 
to Hamlet, and 16 13, when Shakespeare retired to Stratford. 
As Fletcher's talents began to be renowned only about 1607, 



14 



PREFACE. 



and as he worked with Shakespeare on Henry VIII after 
that time, we may probably assign The Two Noble Kinsme7i 
to the period between 1608 and 161 2. It may well be, as 
Mr. Skeat suggests, that the play in its present form was 
revised by Fletcher, and even that parts of Shakespeare's 
share were altered by him after Shakespeare's death. As I 
have given in the notes the opinions of the critics most com- 
petent to decide the question of authorship, I need not pur- 
sue the matter here, and will only add that The Two Noble 
Kins7nen deserves to be known and admired because it is, 
first of all. a fine drama ; that it happens to be a first-rate 
puzzle in literary criticism, is a minor reason for its repub- 
lication. 

Of John Webster's personal history we can learn nothing. 
A few entries in Henslowe's Diaiy, of payments made to 
Webster for theatrical properties, a few dates of the per- 
formances of his plays — and " the rest is silence." The 
first mention of him is in 1601, as the author of The Guise, 
or the Massacre of France, which may have been, as Dyce 
suggests, only a rifacimento of Marlowe's piece ; together 
with Dekker, he wrote Westward Ho and Northward Ho, 
pubHshed in 1607 ; The White Devil was printed in 161 2 ; 
The Ditchess of Malfim 1623 (but performed earher) ; long 
afterwards, in 1654, Appius and Virginia issued from the 
press. On one title-page Webster is styled " merchant- 
tailor," and there are commendatory epigraphs by Middle- 
ton, Rowley, and Ford. All that we know of his character 
we glean from two or three short addresses to the reader, 
and from two dedications : these show him to have .been 
conscious of his own powers, yet modest ; not withoiit a 
dignified contempt of the opinions of the majority of filay- 
goers, who, he says, " resemble those ignorant asses, w?)o, 



PREFACE. 15 

visiting stationers' shops, their use is not to inquire for good 
books, but new books." " To those who report I was a 
long time finishing this tragedy," he continues, in the preface 
to The White Devil, " I confess, I do not write with a goose 
quill winged with two feathers ; and if they will needs make 
it my fault, I must answer them with that of Euripides to 
Alcestides, a tragic writer. Alcestides objecting that Eurip- 
ides had only, in three days, composed three verses, whereas 
himself had written three hundred, 'Thou tellest truth,' 
quoth he, ' but here's the difference, — thine shall only be 
read for three days, whereas mine shall continue three ages.' 
Detraction is the sworn friend to ignorance : for mine own 
part, I have ever truly cherished my good opinion of other 
men's worthy labors ; especially of that full and heightened 
style of Master Chapman ; the labored and understanding 
works of Master Jonson ; the no less worthy composures of 
the both worthily excellent Master Beaumont and Master 
Fletcher; and lastly (without wrong, last to be named), the 
right happy and copious industry of Master Shakespeare, 
Master Dekker, and Master Heywood ; wishing what I write 
may be read by their light ; protesting that, in the strength 
of mine own judgment, I know them so worthy, that though 
I rest silent in my own work, yet to most of theirs I dare 
(without flattery) fix that of Martial, Non norimt haec monu- 
menta mori.'" Generous to his fellow- craftsmen, not fawning 
to the '' groundlings " nor servile to his patrons, that is all 
that, from too scanty evidence, we can infer about Webster, 
the man ; of the dramatist, we have at least two works which 
reveal his astonishing genius. As long as The White Devil 
and The Duchess of Malfi are read, so long will John Web- 
ster's title to rank among the four or five supreme tragic 
writers of the world be open to the scrutiny of all. 



1 6 PREFACE. 

It has been the fashion of some critics to speak of Webster 
as a strange and terrible genius, a sort of ogre who dehghted 
in bloody scenes by day, and supped nightly with horrors ; 
or as a fellow of morbid imagination, whose favorite haunts 
were church-yards and dark charnel-houses, who gloated 
over chronicles of crime, and had no other purpose in writ- 
ing, save that of causing a vulgar shudder to ripple over the 
shoulders of his hearers. If these views were correct, we 
might dismiss him and his plays as summarily as we dismiss 
the latest melodrama with its sheet-iron thunder and pro- 
miscuous slaughters. But these views are not correct, and 
to understand such a play as The Duchess of Malfi we must 
recall the state of society throughout a large portion of Europe 
during the sixteenth century. Webster needed not to appeal 
to his imagination for materials so terrible ; the history of 
almost any Italian city, in any decade of that century, could 
supply them. From the court of the Vatican down to that 
of a princehng in Perugia or Mantua, abominable vices, 
refined cruelty, atrocious crimes, were common : ties of 
kindred were no restraint upon the cravings of lust or of 
ambition ; pledges sealed by oath, promises bound by honor, 
melted as the snow melts in April, for there was no sanctity 
in religion, no self-respect in men ; selfishness, insatiate and 
unscrupulous, directed the policy of states and the actions 
of individuals. Personal courage, which gives to the bloody 
deeds of a less enlightened time some show of fairness, 
had withered ; this was the age when treachery was reduced 
to a fine art, — when poison was sprinkled on a rose and 
smeared on the door-latch or the missal, — when the sword 
was exchanged for the dagger, which never struck in front, — 
when reputations could be done to death by lago-insinua- 
tions as surely as the body by subtle, invisible poisons. The 



PREFACE. 1 7 

glorious seeds of the Renaissance had produced in Italy 
this upas-forest, covered with splendid but deadly blossoms. 
The current religion did not supply moral leaven adequate 
to so rapid an intellectual growth, and there was no senti- 
ment of nationality to counteract the tendency towards indi- 
viduaHsm. What thoughtful man, be he a rationalist or a 
dogmatist, can behold such periods without amazement, and 
without realizing that the problem of human destiny is infi- 
nitely complex and unspeakably tragic ? And John Webster 
sought, merely by presenting an episode typical of hundreds, 
— nay, of an epoch, — to show the actual terror and tragedy 
of life, that must be reckoned with by every one who would 
estimate its possibilities and its purpose. 

Unlike Dante, his Duchess needed to be transported to 
hell by no vision : her very surroundings were hell, as they 
must have been to any pure and noble man or woman. In 
the contrast between her character and her conditions lies 
the real tragedy ; the terrific ordeals which test but do not 
pvercome her fortitude — scenes which only Webster could 
depict — are but accessory and external. It may be urged, 
indeed, that her sufferings were unwarranted, because she 
was innocent : to this it is sufficient to reply : " Such is the 
fact ; if only the wicked suffered, there would be no prob- 
lem of evil ; neither art nor ethics can be true, if they gar- 
ble facts." And because Webster recognized this spiritual 
truth, he is profoundly moral ; and because he was able to 
embody it in the concrete, he is among the few supreme 
tragic poets of the world. In his play, as often happens in 
real Hfe, the virtuous seem to be defeated, the wicked to be 
victorious, but the triumph and the defeat are only appar- 
ent : virtue remains uncontaminated, — there is its reward ; 
sin remains unregenerate, — there is its punishment. " Merely 



1 8 PREFACE. 

to live," said Socrates, " is nothing ; a good life is every- 
thing." And Webster, after painting with inexorable fidelity 
and supreme power the tragic career of his heroine, con- 
cludes, — 

" I have ever thought 
Nature doth nothing so great for great men 
As when she's pleased to make them lords of truth: 
Integrity of life is fame's best friend, 
Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end." 

It is necessary to make this brief analysis in order to pre- 
pare readers for a right understanding of Webster; they 
will need no guide to show them his more patent merits. 
His detached thoughts, clear and compressed as diamonds ; 
his revelations of a character in a Hne ; his sombre sub- 
limity ; his naturalness amid almost preternatural circum- 
stances, — these characteristics of his genius need no 
elucidation. He had not Shakespeare's skill in dramatic 
construction ; nor Shakespeare's complete mastery of verse, 
but he had, within a narrower range, an imagination as pene- 
trating and as vivifying as Shakespeare's, and a moral sense 
akin to that which expresses itself in Macbeth and in Lear. 

From Marlowe to Webster is less than thirty^years, less 
than an average lifetime ; yet within that brief period the 
EHzabethan Drama blossomed and withered. After Web- 
ster's, there is no great name in the Drama. English Poetry, 
indeed, did not die, but its subsequent glories have been 
epic, lyric, and descriptive ; it has become introspective and 
personal, and has left the more diffuse and less permanent 
art of fiction to incarnate in objective creations the passions 
and vicissitudes of human hfe. 

A word should be added concerning the rule which I 
have followed in editing these five plays. I have made 



PREFACE, 19 

the notes as brief as possible, keeping in mind that this 
volume is to be read as literature, and not as a text-book to 
furnish puzzles in antiquarian difficulties nor in philological 
niceties. I have compared the explanations of the best 
editors, and adopted the best, supplementing them from my 
own researches where it seemed necessary. I have set the 
notes at the bottom of each page, rather than at the end of 
the book, so that the reader can see at a glance whether the 
information he seeks is there, or not : those who, like my- 
self, have often wasted time by turning to the back of a 
volume only to find that the editor has passed over without 
comment the word they wished him to explain, will, I trust, 
approve of this arrangement. 



20 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

For the benefit of those who wish to pursue their reading in the 
Elizabethan Drama, the following short bibliography is added : — 

Marlowe. Edited by Dyce, " The Old Dramatists " : new edit., 1887. 
Edited by Bullen, 1886. 

JONSON. Complete works edited by Gifford, 1816; new edit., i860. 

Beaumont and Fletcher. Edited by Darley, " The Old Dramatists," 
new edit., 1883. 

Two Noble Kinsmen. The edition by Littledale {New Shakspere 
Society publications. Series II, 7, 8, 1 5) is exhaustive. For students, 
Skeat's edition, 1875, ^^ '^^''^y convenient; Rolfe's, 1883, is also 
excellent. See also essays by Spalding, Hickson, Furnivall, Fleay, 
and Swinburne. 

Webster. Edited by Dyce, " The Old Dramatists." Also Swinburne's 
admirable essay. Nineteenth Century, 1886, Vol. XIX. 

The chief works of all these dramatists are also republished in the 
recent " Mermaid Series." Charles Lamb's Specimens of English 
Dramatic Poets, and Leigh Hunt's Selections from Beaumont and 
Fletcher, are chosen with rare taste, and are as satisfactory as fragments 
can ever be. The chapters in Taine's English Literature referring to 
the Elizabethan Drama, may be consulted for a foreigner's opinion, 
although they seem to me to lack spiritual insight. 



L 



THE JEW OF MALTA. 

By Christopher Marlowe. 



Probably written in 1589 or 1590: acted in 1591, with AUeyn 
as Barabas. Kean brought out an adaptation of the play at the 
Drury-Lane Theatre in 18 18. The source of the story has not 
been discovered. 



II 



THE JEW OF MALTA. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Ferneze, Governor of Malta. 

LODOWICK, his son. 

Selim Calymath, Son of the 

Grand Seignior. 
Martin del Bosco, Vice-Admiral 

of Spain. 
Mathias, a Gentleman. 
Barabas, a wealthy Jew. 
Ithamore, his Slave. 
Jacomo, 
Barnardine, 
Two Merchants. 



Friars. 



Three Jews. 

Knights, Bassoes, Officers, Guard, 
Messengers, Slaves, and Carpen- 
ters. 

Katharine, Mother of Mathias. 

Abigail, Daughter of Barabas. 

Bellamira, a Courtesan. 

Abbess. 

Two Nuns. 

Machiavel, Speaker ot the Pro- 
logue. 



Scene: Malta. 



THE PROLOGUE. 



Enter Machiavel. 

Machiavel. Albeit the world thinks Machiavel ^ is dead, 
Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps, 
And now the Guise ^ is dead, is come from France, 
To view this land, and froHc with his friends. 

1 Machiavelli, the Florentine statesman, died in 1527. His name was 
long a synonym for political perfidy and cold-blooded cruelty. 

2 The Duke of Guise, organizer of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, in 
1572, was assassinated in 1588. 

23 



24 THE JEW OF MALTA. [prologue. 

To some perhaps my name is odious, 

But such as love me guard me from their tongues ; 

And let them know that I am Machiavel, 

And weigh not men, and therefore not men's words. 

Admired I am of those that hate me most. 

Though some speak openly against my books, lo 

Yet they will read me, and thereby attain 

To Peter's chair : and when they cast me off. 

Are poisoned by my climbing followers. 

I count religion but a childish toy. 

And hold there is no sin but ignorance. 

Birds of the air will tell of murders past ! 

I am ashamed to hear such fooleries. 

Many will talk of title to a crown : 

What right had Caesar to the empery? 

Might first made kings, and laws were then most sure 20 

When like the Draco's they were writ in blood. 

Hence comes it that a strong-built citadel 

Commands much more than letters can import ; 

Which maxim had but Phalaris observed, 

He had never bellowed, in a brazen bull, 

Of great ones' envy. Of the poor petty wights 

Let me be envied and not pitied ! 

But whither am I bound ? I come not, I, 

To read a lecture here in Britain, 

But to present the tragedy of a Jew, 30 

Who smiles to see how full his bags are crammed, 

Which money was not got without my means. 

I crave but this — grace him as he deserves. 

And let him not be entertained the worse 

Because he favours me. \_Exit. 



SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 25 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — Barabas discovered in his Counti?ig-house, with 
Neaps of Gold before him. 

Bar, So that of thus much that return was made : 
And of the third part of the Persian ships, 
There was the venture summed and satisfied. 
As for those Sabans, and the men of Uz, 
That bought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece, 
Here have I purst their paltry silverlings.^ 
Fie ; what a trouble 'tis to count this trash. 
Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay 
The things they traffic for with wedge of gold, 
Whereof a man may easily in a day 10 

Tell ^ that which may maintain him all his life. 
The needy groom that never fingered groat. 
Would make a miracle of thus much coin : 
But he whose steel-barred coffers are crammed full. 
And all his lifetime hath been tired. 
Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it. 
Would in his age be loth to labour so. 
And for a pound to sweat himself to death. 
Give me the merchants of the Indian mines. 
That trade in metal of the purest mould ; 20 

The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks 
Without control can pick his riches up. 
And in his house heap pearls hke pebble-stones. 
Receive them free, and sell them by the weight ; 
Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, and amethysts, 

1 Silver coins ; cf. Isaiah vii, 23. 2 Count. 



2 6 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. 

Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds, 

Beauteous rubies, sparkhng diamonds. 

And seld-seen^ costly stones of so great price, 

As one of them indifferently rated, 

And of a carat of this quantity, 30 

May serve in peril of calamity 

To ransom great kings from captivity. 

This is the ware wherein consists my wealth ; 

And thus methinks should men of judgment frame 

Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade. 

And as their wealth increaseth, so inclose 9 

Infinite riches in a Httle room. 

But now how stands the wind ? 

Into what corner peers my halcyon's bill ? ^ 

Ha ! to the east? yes : see, how stand the vanes? 40 

East and by south : why then I hope my ships 

I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles 

Are gotten up by Nilus' winding banks : 

Mine argosies from Alexandria, 

Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail. 

Are smoothly gliding down by Candy shore 

To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea. 

But who comes here ? 

Enter a Merchant. 

How now? 
Merch. Barabas, thy ships are safe. 
Riding in Malta-road : and all the merchants 50 

1 Seldom seen. 

2 A stuffed kingfisher (the halcyon), suspended by a string, was sup- 
posed to show the direction of the wind. Halcyon days were calm days, 
the belief being that the weather was always calm when kingfishers were 
breeding. Cf King Lear, ii, 2 ; Sir T. Browne, Vulgar Errors, Hi, 10. 



SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 27 

With Other merchandise are safe arrived, 
And have sent me to know whether yourself 
Will come and custom ^ them. 

Bar. The ships are safe thou say'st, and richly fraught. 

Merch. They are. 

Bai'. Why then go bid them come ashore, 
And bring with them their bills of entry : 
I hope our credit in the custom-house . 
Will serve as well as I were present there. 
Go send 'em threescore camels, thirty mules, 
And twenty waggons to bring up the ware. 60 

But art thou master in a ship of mine. 
And is thy credit not enough for that ? 

Merch, The very custom barely comes to more 
Than many merchants of the town are worth. 
And therefore far exceeds my credit, sir. 

Bar. Go tell 'em the Jew of Malta sent thee, man : 
Tush ! who amongst 'em knows not Barabas ? 

Merch. I go. 

Bar. So then, there's somewhat come. 
Sirrah, which of my ships art thou master of? 

Merch. Of the Spei'anza, sir. 

Bar. And saw'st thou not 70 

Mine argosy at Alexandria ? 

Thou could'st not come from Egypt, or by Caire, 
But at the entry there into the sea. 
Where Nilus pays his tribute to the main, 
Thou needs must sail by Alexandria. 

Merch. I neither saw them, nor inquired of them : 
But this we heard some of our seamen say. 
They wondered how you durst with so much wealth 

1 Pay the duty on them. 



4 



THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. 



Trust such a crazed vessel, and so far. 

Bar. Tush, they are wise ! I know her and her strength. 80 I 
But go, go thou thy ways, discharge thy ship, 
And bid my factor bring his loading in. l£xi/ Merch. ,,. 

And yet I wonder at this argosy. I|| 

Enter a second Merchant. 

2d Merch. Thine argosy from x'\lexandria, 
Know, Barabas, doth ride in Malta-road, 
Laden with riches, and exceeding store 
Of Persian silks, of gold, and orient pearl. 

Bar. How chance you came not with those other ships 
That sailed by Egypt? 

2d Merch. Sir, we saw 'em not. 

Bar. Belike they coasted round by Candy shore 90 

About their oils, or other businesses. 
But 'twas ill done of you to come so far 
Without the aid or conduct of their ships. 

2d Merch. Sir, we were wafted by a Spanish fleet, 
That never left us till within a league. 
That had the galleys of the Turk in chase. 

Bar. O ! — they were going up to Sicily : — 
Well, go. 

And bid the merchants and my men despatch 
And come ashore, and see the fraught ^ discharged. 100 

2d Merch. I go. \_Exit. 

Bar. Thus trowls ' our fortune in by land and sea, 
And thus are we on every side enriched : 
These are the blessings promised to the Jews, 
And herein was old Abram's happiness : 

1 Freight. 2 Rolls. 



SCENE I.] THE Jew of MALTA. . 29 

What more may heaven do for earthly man 

Than thus to pour out plenty in their laps, 

Ripping the bowels of the earth for them, 

Making the seas their servants, and the winds 

To drive their substance with successful blasts? no 

Who hateth me but for my happiness ? 

Or who is honoured now but for his wealth ? 

Rather had I a Jew be hated thus. 

Than pitied in a Christian poverty : 

For I can see no fruits in all their faith. 

But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride. 

Which methinks fits not their profession. 

Haply some hapless man hath conscience. 

And for his conscience lives in beggary. 

They say we are a scattered nation : 120 

I cannot tell, but we have scambled^ up 

More wealth by far than those that brag of faith. 

There's Kirriah Jairim, the great Jew of Greece, 

Obed in Bairseth,^ Nones in Portugal, 

Myself in Malta, some in Italy, 

Many in France, and wealthy every one ; 

Ay, wealthier far than any Christian. 

I must confess we come not to be kings ; 

That's not our fault : alas, our number's few. 

And crowns come either by succession, 130 

Or urged by force ; and nothing violent 

Oft have I heard tell, can be permanent. 

Give us a peaceful rule, make Christians kings, 

That thirst so much for principality. 

I have no charge, nor many children, 

1 Collected, used for scrambled, as in Henry V, i, i. 

2 Beyrout ? 



30 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I, 

But one sole daughter, whom I hold as dear 

As Agamemnon did his Iphigen : 

And all I have is hers. But who comes here ? 

Enter three Jews.^ 

1st Jew. Tush, tell not me ; 'twas done of policy. 

2d Jew. Come, therefore, let us go to Barabas, 140 

For he can counsel best in these affairs ; 
And here he comes. 

Bar. Why, how now, countrymen ! J I 

Why flock you thus to me in multitudes? " 

What accident's betided to the Jews ? 

1st Jew. A fleet of warlike galleys, Barabas, 
Are come from Turkey, and lie in our road : 
And they this day sit in the council-house 
To entertain them and their embassy. 

Bar. Why, let 'em come, so they come not to war ; 
Or let 'em war, so we be conquerors — 150 

Nay, let 'em combat, conquer, and kill all ! 
{Aside) So they spare me, my daughter, and my wealth. 

1st Jew. Were it for confirmation of a league, 
They would not come in warlike manner thus. 

2d Jew. I fear their coming will afflict us all. 

Bar. Fond ^ men ! what dream you of their multitudes ? 
What need they treat of peace that are in league ? 
The Turks and those of Malta are in league. 
Tut, tut, there is some other matter in't. 

1st Jew. Why, Barabas, they come for peace or war. 160 

Bar. Haply for neither, but to pass along 
Towards Venice by the Adriatic Sea ; 

1 Here the scene is shifted to a street, or to the Exchange. 

2 Foolish. 



SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA, 3 1 

With whom they have attempted many times, 
But never could effect their stratagem. 

^d Jew. And very wisely said. It may be so. 

2d Jew, But there's a meeting in the senate-house, 
And all the Jews in Malta must be there. 

Bar. Hum ; all the Jews in Malta must be there ? 
Ay, Hke enough, why then let every man 
Provide him, and be there for fashion-sake. 170 

If anything shall there concern our state, 
Assure yourselves I'll look {aside) unto myself. 

1st Jew. I know you will. Well, brethren, let us go. 

2d Jew. Let's take our leaves. Farewell, good Barabas. 

Bar. Farewell, Zaareth ; farewell, Temainte. 

\^Exeunt Jews. 
And, Barabas, now search this secret out ; 
Summon thy senses, call thy wits together : 
These silly men mistake the matter clean. 
Long to the Turk did Malta contribute ; 
Which tribute, all in policy I fear, 180 

The Turks have let increase to such a sum 
As all the wealth of Malta cannot pay ; 
And now by that advantage thinks belike 
To seize upon the town : ay, that he seeks. 
Howe'er the world go, I'll make sure for one. 
And seek in time to intercept the worst. 
Warily guarding that which I ha' got. 
Ego mihimet sum semper proximus} 
Why, let 'em enter, let 'em take the town. \^Exit. 

1 Misquotation from Terence, Andria, iv, i, 12, Proximus sum egomet 
mihi. 



32 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act I. 

Scene II. — Inside the Council-house. 

Enter Ferneze, Governor of Malta, Knights, and Officers ; 
7net by Calymath and Bassoes of the Turk. 

Fern. Now, Bassoes,^ what demand you at our hands? 

jst Bas. Know, Knights of Malta, that we came from 
Rhodes, 
From Cyprus, Candy, and those other Isles 
That he betwixt the Mediterranean seas. 

Fern. What's Cyprus, Candy, and those other Isles 
To us, or Malta ? What at our hands demand ye ? 

Cal. The ten years' tribute that remains unpaid. 

Fern. Alas ! my lord, the sum is over-great, 
I hope your highness will consider us. 

Cal. I wish, grave governor, 'twere in my power lo ' 

To favour you, but 'tis my father's cause. 
Wherein I may not, nay, I dare not dally. 

Fern. Then give us leave, great Selim Calymath. 

\_Consults apart with the Knights. 

Cal. Stand all aside, and let the knights determine, 
And send to keep our galleys under sail. 
For happily ^ we shall not tarry here ; 
Now, governor, say, how are you resolved ? 

Fern. Thus : since your hard conditions are such 
That you will needs have ten years' tribute past, 
We may have time to make collection 20 

Amongst the inhabitants of Malta for't. 

1st Bas. That's more than is in our commission. 

Cal. What, Callipine ! a httle courtesy. 
Let's know their time, perhaps it is not long ; ] 

1 Pashas, formerly spelt bashaws. 2 Haply. 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. ^^ 

And 'tis more kingly to obtain by peace 
Than to enforce conditions by constraint. 
What respite ask you, governor? 

J^ern. But a month. 

Ca/. We grant a month, but see you keep your promise. 
Now launch our galleys back again to sea, 
Where we'll attend the respite you have ta'en, 30 

And for the money send our messenger. 
Farewell, great governor and brave Knights of Malta. 

Fer7i. And all good fortune wait on Calymath ! 

\_Exeufii Calymath and Bassoes. 
Go one and call those Jews of Malta hither : 
Were they not summoned to appear to-day? 

Off. They were, my lord, and here they come. 

Enter Barabas and three Jews. 

1st Knight. Have you determined what to say to them? 

Fei'n. Yes ; give me leave : — and, Hebrews, now come 
near. 
From the Emperor of Turkey is arrived 
Great Selim Calymath, his highness' son, 40 

To levy of us ten years' tribute past ; 
Now then, here know that it concerneth us — 

Bar. Then, good my lord, to keep your quiet still, 
Your lordship shall do well to let them have it. 

Fe7'n. Soft, Barabas, there's more 'longs to't than so. 
To what this ten years' tribute will amount, 
That we have cast, but cannot compass it 
By reason of the wars that robbed our store ; 
And therefore are we to request your aid. 

Bar. Alas, my lord, we are no soldiers : 50 

And what's our aid against so great a prince ? 



34 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act I. 

1st Knight. Tut, Jew, we know thou art no soldier ; 
Thou art a merchant and a moneyed man, 
And 'tis thy money, Barabas, we seek. 

Bar, How, my lord ! my money? 

Fern. Thine and the rest. 
For, to be short, amongst you't must be had. 

1st Jew. Alas, my lord, the most of us are poor. 

Fern. Then let the rich increase your portions. 

Bar. Are strangers with your tribute to be taxed ? 

2d Knight. Have strangers leave with us to get their 
wealth ? 60 

Then let them with us contribute. 

Bar. How ! equally? 

Fei'n. No, Jew, like infidels. 
For through our sufferance of your hateful Hves, 
Who stand accursed in the sight of Heaven, 
These taxes and afflictions are befallen. 
And therefore thus we are determined. 
Read there the articles of our decrees. 

Officer {i-eads'). "First, the tribute-money of the Turks 
shall all be levied amongst the Jews, and each of them to 
pay one half of his estate." 70 

Bar. How, half his estate? {Aside) I hope you mean 
not mine. 

Fern. Read on. 

Off. {reading). "Secondly, he that denies^ to pay shall 
straight become a Christian." 

Bar. How ! a Christian ? {Aside) Hum, what's here to 
do? 

Off. {reading). "Lastly, he that denies this shall abso- 
lutely lose all he has." 

1 Refuses. 



SCENE I [.J THE JEW OF MALTA. 35 

TJic three Jews. O my lord, we will give half. 80 

Bar. O earth- mettled villains, and no Hebrews born ! 
And will you basely thus submit yourselves 
To leave your goods to their arbitrament ? 

Fern. Why, Barabas, wilt thou be christened? 

Bar. No, governor, I will be no convertite.^ 

Fern. Then pay thy half. 

Bar. Why, know you what you did by this device ? 
Half of my substance is a city's wealth. 
Governor, it was not got so easily ; 
Nor will I part so slightly therewithal. 90 

Fern. Sir, half is the penalty of our decree. 
Either pay that, or we will seize on all. 

Bar. Corpo di Dio ! stay ! you shall have the half; 
Let me be used but as my brethren are. 

Fern. No, Jew, thou hast denied the articles, 
And now it cannot be recalled. 

\_Exetmt Officers, on a sign from Ferneze. 

Bar. Will you then steal my goods ? 
Is theft the ground of your religion ? 

Fern. No, Jew, we take particularly thine 
To save the ruin of a multitude : 100 

And better one want for the common good 
Than many perish for a private man : 
Yet, Barabas, we will not banish thee. 
But here in Malta, where thou gott'st thy wealth, 
Live still ; and, if thou canst, get more. 

Bar. Christians, what or how can I multiply ? 
Of naught is nothing made. 

jst Knight. From naught at first thou cam'st to Httle 
wealth, 

1 Convert ; so used in As You Like It and King John. 



36 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. 

From little unto more, from more to most : 

If your first curse fall heavy on thy head, no 

And make thee poor and scorned of all the world, 

'Tis not our fault, but thy inherent sin. 

Ba7'. What, bring you Scripture to confirm your wrongs ? 
Preach me not out of my possessions. 
Some Jews are wicked, as all Christians are : 
But say the tribe that I descended of 
Were all in general cast away from sin, 
Shall I be tried by their transgression? 
The man that dealeth righteously shall live : 
And which of you can charge me otherwise ? 120 ii 

Fern. Out, wretched Barabas ! 1|| 

Sham'st thou not thus to justify thyself, 
As if we knew not thy profession ? 
If thou rely upon thy righteousness. 
Be patient and thy riches will increase. 
Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness : 
And covetousness, O, 'tis a monstrous sin. 

Bar. Ay, but theft is worse : tush ! take not from me 
then, 
For that is theft ! and if you rob me thus, 
I must be forced to steal and compass^ more. 130 

1st Kjiight. Grave governor, hsten not to his exclaims. 
Convert his mansion to a nunnery ; 
His house will harbour many holy nuns. 

Fern. It shall be so. -' 

Re-enter Officers. 

Now, officers, have you done? 1 

Off. Ay, my lord, we have seized upon the goods 

1 Cheat. 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 37 

And wares of Barabas, which being valued, 
Amount to more than all the wealth of Malta. 
And of the other we have seized half. 

Ferti. Then we'll take order for the residue. 

Bar. Well then, my lord, say, are you satisfied ? 140 

You have my goods, my money, and my wealth. 
My ships, my store, and all that I enjoyed ; 
And, having all, you can request no more ; 
Unless your unrelenting flinty hearts 
Suppress all pity in your stony breasts. 
And now shall move you to bereave my life. 

Fern. No, Barabas, to stain our hands with blood 
Is far from us and our profession. 

Bar. Why, I esteem the injury far less 
To take the lives of miserable men 150 

Than be the causers of their misery. 
You have my wealth, the labour of my life. 
The comfort of mine age, my children's hope. 
And therefore ne'er distinguish of the wrong. 

Fern. Content thee, Barabas, thou hast naught but right. 

Bar. Your exti-eme right does me exceeding wrong : 
But take it to you, i' the devil's name. 

Fer7i. Come, let us in, and gather of these goods 
The money for this tribute of the Turk. 

1st Knight. 'Tis necessary that be looked unto : 160 

For if we break our day, we break the league. 
And that will prove but simple^ policy. 

\_Exeunt all except Barabas and the Jews. 

Bar. Ay, policy ! that's their profession, 
And not simplicity, as they suggest. 
The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of Heaven, 

1 Foolish. 



^8 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act I. 

Earth's barrenness, and all men's hatred 

Inflict upon them, thou great Primus Motor! 

And here upon my knees, striking the earth, 

I ban their souls to everlasting pains 

And extreme tortures of the fiery deep, 170 

That thus have dealt with me in my distress. 

1st Jew. O yet be patient, gentle Barabas. 

Bar. O silly brethren, born to see this day ; 
Why stand you thus unmoved with my laments ? 
Why weep you not to think upon my wrongs ? 
Why pine not I, and die in this distress ? 

1st Jew. Why, Barabas, as hardly can we brook 
The cruel handling of ourselves in this ; 
Thou seest they have taken half our goods. 

Bar. Why did you yield to their extortion? 180 

You were a multitude, and I but one : 
And of me only have they taken all. 

1st Jew. Yet, brother Barabas, remember Job. 

Bar. What tell you me of Job ? I wot his wealth 
Was written thus : he had seven thousand sheep. 
Three thousand camels, and two hundred yoke 
Of labouring oxen, and five hundred 
She-asses : but for every one of those. 
Had they been valued at indifferent rate, 
I had at home, and in mine argosy, 190 

And other ships that came from Eg>'pt last. 
As much as would have bought his beasts and him. 
And yet have kept enough to live upon : 
So that not he, but I may curse the day, 
Thy fatal birth-day, forlorn Barabas ; 
And henceforth wish for an eternal night. 
That clouds of darkness may inclose my flesh. 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 39 

And hide these extreme sorrows from mine eyes : 

For only I have toiled to inherit here 

The months of vanity and loss of time, 200 

And painful nights, have been appointed me. 

2d Jew. Good Barabas, be patient. 

Bar. Ay, I pray, leave me in my patience. You, 
Were ne'er possessed of wealth, are pleased with want ; 
But give him liberty at least to mourn. 
That in a field amidst his enemies 
Doth see his soldiers slain, himself disarmed, 
And knows no means of his recovery : 
Ay, let me sorrow for this sudden chance ; 
'Tis in the trouble of my spirit I speak ; 210 

Great injuries are not so soon forgot. 

1st Jew. Come, let us leave him ; in his ireful mood 
Our words will but increase his ecstasy.^ 

2d Jeiv. On, then ; but trust me 'tis a misery 
To see a man in such affliction. — 
Farewell, Barabas ! \_Exeii7it the tJwee Jews.^ 

Bar. Ay, fare you well. 
See the simplicity of these base slaves. 
Who, for the villains have no wit themselves. 
Think me to be a senseless lump of clay 
That will with every water wash to dirt : 220 

No, Barabas is born to better chance. 
And framed of finer mould than common men. 
That measure naught but by the present time. 
A .caching thought will search his deepest wits, 
And cast with cunning for the time to come : 
For evils are apt to happen every day. — 

1 Violent emotion. 

2 Dyce suggests that the scene is now shifted to a street near Barabas' 
house. 



40 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. 

Enter Abigail. 

But whither wends my beauteous Abigail ? 

! what has made my lovely daughter sad ? 
What, woman ! moan not for a Httle loss : 

Thy father hath enough in store for thee. 230 

Abig. Not for myself, but aged Barabas : 
Father, for thee lamenteth Abigail : 
But I will learn to leave these fruitless tears, 
And, urged thereto with my afflictions, 
With fierce exclaims run to the senate-house, 
And in the senate reprehend them all. 
And rend their hearts with tearing of my hair. 
Till they reduce ^ the wrongs done to my father. 

Bar. No, Abigail, things past recovery 
Are hardly cured with exclamations. 240 

Be silent, daughter, sufferance breeds ease. 
And time may yield us an occasion 
Which on the sudden cannot serve the turn. 
Besides, my girl, think me not all so fond 
As negligently to forego so much 
Without provision for thyself and me : 
Ten thousand portagues,^ besides great pearls. 
Rich costly jewels, and stones infinite, 
Fearing the worst of this before it fell, 

1 closely hid. 

Abig. Where, father? 

Bar. In my house, my girl. 250 

Abig. Then shall they ne'er be seen of Barabas : 
For they have seized upon thy house and wares. 

1 Lessen, diminish. Dyce suggests redress. 

2 Portuguese gold coins. 



3CENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 41 

Bar. But they will give me leave once more, I trow, 
To go into my house. 

Abig. That may they not : 
For there I left the governor placing nuns, 
Displacing me ; and of thy house they mean 
To make a nunnery, where none but their own sect' 
Must enter in ; men generally barred. 

Bar. My gold ! my gold ! and all my wealth is gone ! 
You partial heavens, have I deserved this plague ? 260 

What, will you thus oppose me, luckless stars, 
To make me desperate in my poverty? 
And knowing me impatient in distress, 
Think me so mad as I will hang myself. 
That I may vanish o'er the earth in air. 
And leave no memory that e'er I was? 
No, I will live ; nor loathe I this my life : 
And, since you leave me in the ocean thus 
To sink or swim, and put me to my shifts, 
I'll rouse my senses and awake myself. 270 

Daughter ! I have it : thou perceiv'st the plight 
Wherein these Christians have oppressed me : 
Be ruled by me, for in extremity 
We ought to make bar of no policy. 

Abig. Father, whate'er it be to injure them 
That have so manifestly wronged us. 
What will not Abigail attempt ? 

Bar. Why, so ; 
Then thus, thou told'st me they have turned my house 
Into a nunnery, and some nuns are there ? 

Abig. I did. 

Bar. Then, Abigail, there must my girl 280 

1 Sex. 



42 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act i. 

Entreat the abbess to be entertained. 

Abig. How, as a nun ? | j 

Bar. Ay, daughter, for rehgion 
Hides many mischiefs from suspicion. 

Abig. Ay, but, father, they will suspect me there. 

Bar. Let 'em suspect ; but be thou so precise 
As they may think it done of holiness. 
Entreat 'em fair, and give them friendly speech. 
And seem to them as if thy sins were great, 
Till thou hast gotten to be entertained. 

Abig. Thus, father, shall I much dissemble. 

Bar. Tush ! 290 

As good dissemble that thou never mean'st, 
As first mean truth and then dissemble it, — 
A counterfeit profession is better 
Than unseen hypocrisy.^ 

Abig. Well, father, say that I be entertained. 
What then shall follow ? 

Bar. This shall follow then ; 
There have I hid, close underneath the plank 
That runs along the upper-chamber floor. 
The gold and jewels which I kept for thee. 
But here they come ; be cunning, Abigail. 300 

Abig. Then, father, go with me. 

Bar. No, Abigail, in this 
It is not necessary I be seen : 
For I will seem offended with thee for't : 
Be close, my girl, for this must fetch my gold. \_They retire. 

Enter Friar Jacomo, Friar Barnardine, Abbess, and a Nun. 

F. Jac. Sisters, we now are almost at the new-made 
nunnery. 

1 This passage is corrupt. 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 43 

Abb. The better ; for we love not to be seen : 
'Tis thirty winters long since some of us 
Did stray so far amongst the multitude. 

F.Jac. But, madam, this house 
And waters ^ of this new-made nunnery 310 

Will much delight you. 

Abb. It may be so ; but who comes here ? 

[Abigail comes forward. 

Abig. Grave abbess, and you, happy virgins' guide, 
Pity the state of a distressed maid. 

Abb. What art thou, daughter? 

Abig. The hopeless daughter of a hapless Jew, 
The Jew of Malta, wretched Barabas ; 
Sometime the owner of a goodly house. 
Which they have now turned to a nunnery. 

Abb. Well, daughter, say, what is thy suit with us ? 320 

Abig. Fearing the afflictions which my father feels 
Proceed from sin, or want of faith in us, 
I'd pass away my life in penitence. 
And be a novice in your nunnery. 
To make atonement for my labouring soul. 

F. Jac. No doubt, brother, but this proceedeth of the 
spirit. 

F. Ba?'n. Ay, and of a moving spirit too, brother ; but 
come. 
Let us entreat she may be entertained. 

Abb. Well, daughter, we admit you for a nun. 

Abig. First let me as a novice learn to frame 330 

My solitary life to your strait laws. 
And let me lodge where I was wont to lie, 
I do not doubt, by your divine precepts 
1 Bullen suggests cloisters. 



44 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT I. 

And mine own industry, but to profit much. 

Bar. {aside). As much, I hope, as all I hid is worth. 

Abb. Come, daughter, follow us. 

Bar. {coming forward) . Why, how now, Abigail, 
What makest thou amongst these hatefiil Christians? 

F. Jac. Hinder her not, thou man of little faith, 
For she has mortified herself. 

Bar. How ! mortified ? 

F. Jac. And is admitted to the sisterhood. 340 

Bar. Child of perdition, and thy father's shame ! 
What wilt thou do among these hateful fiends? 
I charge thee on my blessing that thou leave 
These devils, and their damned heresy. 

Abig. Father, give me — \^She goes to hitn. 

Bar. Nay, back, Abigail, 
(And think upon the jewels and the gold ; 

\_Astde to Abigail in a whisper. 
The board is marked thus that covers it.) 
Away, accursed from thy father's sight. 

F.Jac. Barabas, although thou art in mischief, 
And wilt not see thine own afflictions, 350 

Yet let thy daughter be no longer blind. 

Bar. Blind friar, I reck not thy persuasions, 
(The board is marked thus ^ that covers it.) 

\^Aside to Abigail in a whisper. 
For I had rather die than see her thus. 
Wilt thou forsake me too in my distress, 
Seduced daughter? {Aside in a whisper) (Go, forget not,) 
Becomes it Jews to be so credulous ? 
(To-morrow early I'll be at the door.) \_Aside in a whisper. 

1 The original edition has f inserted here, to indicate the sign Barabas 
was to make. 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 45 

No, come not at me ; if thou wilt be damned, 

Forget me, see me not, and so be gone. 360 

(Farewell, remember to-morrow morning.) 

\_Aside in a whisper. 
Out, out, thou wretch ! 

\_Exeunt, on one side Barabas, 071 the other side 
Friars, Abbess, Nun, and Abigail; as they 
are going out, 

Enter Mathias. 

Math. Who's this ? fair Abigail, the rich Jew's daughter, 
Become a nun ! her father's sudden fall 
Has humbled her and brought her down to this : 
Tut, she were fitter for a tale of love, 
Than to be tired out with orisons. 

Enter Lodowick. 

Lod. Why, how now, Don Mathias ! in a dump? 

Math. BeHeve me, noble Lodowick, I have seen 
The strangest sight, in my opinion, 370 

That ever I beheld. 

Lod. What was't, I prithee ? 

Math. A fair young maid, scarce fourteen years of age. 
The sweetest flower in Cytherea's field, 
Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitful earth, 
And strangely metamorphosed nun. 

Lod. But say, what was she ? 

Math. Why, the rich Jew's daughter. 

Lod. What, Barabas, whose goods were lately seized ? 
Is she so fair? 

Math. And matchless beautiful ; 
As, had you seen her, 'twould have moved your heart, 



46 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act II. 

Though countermined with walls of brass, to love, 380 

Or at the least to pity. 

Lod. And if she be so fair as you report, 
'Twere time well spent to go and visit her : 
How say you, shall we ? 

Math. I must and will, sir ; there's no remedy. 

Lod. And so will I too, or it shall go hard. 
Farewell, Math i as. 

Math. Farewell, Lodowick. [^Exeunt severally. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — Before Barabas's House, now a Nunnery. 

Enter Barabas with a light. 

Bar. Thus, like the sad presaging raven that tolls 
The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, 
And in the shadow of the silent night 
Doth shake contagion from her sable wings ; 
Vexed and tormented runs poor Barabas 
With fatal curses towards these Christians. 
The uncertain pleasures of swift-footed time 
Have ta'en their flight, and left me in despair ; 
And of my former riches rests no more 
But bare remembrance, like a soldier's scar, 
That has no further comfort for his maim. 
O thou, that with a fiery pillar led'st 
The sons of Israel through the dismal shades, 
Light Abraham's offspring ; and direct the hand 
Of Abigail this night ; or let the day 
Turn to eternal darkness after this ! 



SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 47 

No sleep can fasten on my watchful eyes, 
Nor quiet enter my distempered thoughts, 
Till I have answer of my Abigail. 

Entei' Abigail above. 

Abig. Now have I happily espied a time 20 

To search the plank my father did appoint ; 
And here behold, unseen, where I have found 
The gold, the pearls, and jewels, which he hid. 

Bar. Now I remember those old women's words. 
Who in my wealth ^ would tell me winter's tales. 
And speak of spirits and ghosts that glide by night 
About the place where treasure hath been hid : ^ 
And now methinks that I am one of those : 
For whilst I live, here lives my soul's sole hope, 
And, when I die, here shall my spirit walk. 30 

Abig. Now that my father's fortune were so good 
As but to be about this happy place ; 
'Tis not so happy : yet when we parted last. 
He said he would attend me in the morn. 
Then, gentle sleep, where'er his body rests, 
Give charge to Morpheus that he may dream 
A golden dream, and of the sudden wake, 
Come and receive the treasure I have found. 

Bar. Bueno pai'a todos mi ganado no era: 
As good go on as sit so sadly thus. 40 

But stay, what star shines yonder in the east?"^ 
The loadstar of my life, if Abigail. 
Who's there? 

1 Bullen suggests that this is a misprint {or youth. 2 Cf. Hamlet, i. i. 

3 Cf. Romeo and Juliet, ii, 2 : 

" But soft! what light through yonder window breaks! 
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! " 



48 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act ii. 

Abig. Who's that ? 

Bar. Peace, Abigail, 'tis I. 

Abig. Then, father, here receive thy happiness. 

Bar. Hast thou't? 

Abig. Here, {^throws doivn the bags) hast thou't? 
There's more, and more, and more. 

Bar. O my girl, 
My gold, my fortune, my felicity ! 
Strength to my soul, death to mine enemy ! 
Welcome the first beginner of my bliss ! 50 

O Abigail, Abigail, that I had thee here too ! 
Then my desires were fully satisfied : 
But I will practise thy enlargement thence : 
O girl ! O gold ! ^ O beauty ! O my bliss ! \_IIugs the bags. 

Abig. Father, it draweth towards midnight now. 
And 'bout this time the nuns begin to wake ; 
To shun suspicion, therefore, let us part. 

Bar. Farewell, my joy, and by my fingers take 
A kiss from him that sends it from his soul. 

\^Exit Abigail above. 
Now Phoebus ope the eyelids of the day,^ 60 

And for the raven wake the morning lark. 
That I may hover with her in the air ; 
Singing o'er these, as she does o'er her young, 
Hermoso placer de los dinei'os? \_Exit. 

1 Cf. Shylock's " My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! " Mer- 
chant of Venice, ii, 8. 

2 Cf. Job xli, i8 : " His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning; " and 
Milton, Lycidas : " Under the opening eyelids of the mom." 

8 Spanish ; " beautiful pleasure of money." 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 49 

Scene II. — The Senate-house. 
Enter Ferneze, Martin del Bosco, and Knights. 

Fern. Now, captain, tell us whither thou art bound? 
Whence is thy ship that anchors in our road ? 
And why thou cam'st ashore without our leave? 

Bosc. Governor of Malta, hither am I bound ; 
My ship, the Flying £>ragon, is of Spain, 
And so am I : Del Bosco is my name ; 
Vice-admiral unto the Catholic King. 

jst Knight. 'Tis true, my lord, therefore entreat ^ him 
well. 

Bosc. Our fraught is Grecians, Turks, and Afric Moors. 
For late upon the coast of Corsica, 10 

Because we vailed^ not to the Turkish fleet, 
Their creeping galleys had us in the chase : 
But suddenly the wind began to rise. 
And then we luffed and tacked, and fought at ease : 
Some have we fired, and many have we sunk ; 
But one amongst the rest became our prize : 
The captain's slain, the rest remain our slaves, 
Of whom we would make sale in Malta here. 

Fern. Martin del Bosco, I have heard of thee ; 
Welcome to Malta, and to all of us ; 20 

But to admit a sale of these thy Turks 
W^e may not, nay, we dare not give consent 
By reason of a tributary league. 

1st Knight. Del Bosco, as thou lov'st and honour'st us. 
Persuade our governor against the Turk ; 
This truce we have is but in hope of gold, 

1 Treat. 2 Lowered not our flags. 



50 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT II. 

And with that sum he craves might we wage war. 

Bosc. Will Knights of Malta be in league with Turks, 
And buy it basely too for sums of gold ? 
My lord, remember that, to Europe's shame, 30 

The Christian Isle of Rhodes,^ from whence you came. 
Was lately lost, and you were stated ^ here 
To be at deadly enmity with Turks. 

Fej'ii. Captain, we know it, but our force is small. 

Bosc. What is the sum that Calymath requires? 

Fe7ni. A hundred thousand crowns. 

Bosc. My lord and king hath title to this isle. 
And he means quickly to expel you hence ; 
Therefore be ruled by me, and keep the gold : 
I'll write unto his majesty for aid, 40 

And not depart until I see you free. 

Fej-n. On this condition shall thy Turks be sold : 
Go, officers, and set them straight in show. \_Exeunt Off. 
Bosco, thou shalt be Malta's general ; 
We and our warlike Knights will follow thee 
Against these barb'rous misbelieving Turks. 

Bosc. So shall you imitate those you succeed : 
For when their hideous force environed Rhodes, 
Small though the number was that kept the town. 
They fought it out and not a man survived 50 

To bring the hapless news to Christendom. 

Fern. So will we fight it out ; come, let's away : 
Proud daring Calymath, instead of gold. 
We'll send thee bullets wrapt in smoke and fire : ^ 
Claim tribute where thou wilt, we are resolved. 
Honour is bought with blood and not with gold. \_Exeunt. 

1 Rhodes was wrested from the Knights of St. John by Solyman II, in 
1522. 

2 Established. 3 Cf. Kin£- John, i, 2, 



SCENE III] THE JEW OF MALTA. 51 

Scene III. — The Market-place. 
Enter Officers zuith Ithamore and other Slaves. 

1st Off. This is the market-place, here let 'em stand : 
Fear not their sale, for they'll be quickly bought. 

2d Off. Every one's price is written on his back. 
And so much must they yield or not be sold. 

1st Off. Here comes the Jew ; had not his goods been 
seized, 
He'd given us present money for them all. 

Enter Barabas. 

Bar. In spite of these swine-eating Christians, — 
Unchosen nation, never circumcised, 
Such as (poor villains !) were ne'er thought upon 
Till Titus and Vespasian conquered us, — ao 

Am I become as wealthy as I was : 
They hoped my daughter would ha' been a nun ; 
But she's at home, and I have bought a house 
As great and fair as is the governor's ; 
And there in spite of Malta will I dwell, 
Having Ferneze's hand, whose heart I'll have ; 
Ay, and his son's too, or it shall go hard. 
I am not of the tribe of Levi, I, 
That can so soon forget an injury. 

We Jews can fawn like spaniels when we please : 20 

And when we grin we bite, yet are our looks 
As innocent and harmless as a lamb's. 
I learned in Florence how to kiss my hand, 
Heave up my shoulders when they call me dog,^ 

1 Cf. this passage with Shylock's speeches with Antonio ; Merchant of 
Venice, i, 3. 



52 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act ti. 

And duck as low as any barefoot friar ; 

Hoping to see them starv^e upon a stall, 

Or else be gathered for in our synagogue, 

That, when the offering-basin comes to me, 

Even for charity I may spit into't. 

Here comes Don Lodowick, the governor's son, 30 

One that I love for his good father's sake. 

Enter Lodowick. 

Lod. I hear the wealthy Jew walked this way : 
I'll seek him out, and so insinuate, 
That I may have a sight of Abigail ; 
For Don Mathias tells me she is fair. 

Bar. {aside). Now will I show myself 
To have more of the serpent than the dove ; 
That is — more knave than fool. 

Lod. Yond' walks the Jew ; now for fair Abigail. 

Bar. {aside). Ay, ay, no doubt but she's at your command. 

Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I am the governor's son. 41 

Bar. I would you were his father, too, sir ; 
That's all the harm I wish you. {Aside) The slave looks 
Like a hog's-cheek new singed. 

Lod. Whither walk'st thou, Barabas ? 

Bar. No farther : 'tis a custom held with us. 
That when we speak with Gentiles like to you. 
We turn into the air to purge ourselves : 
For unto us the promise doth belong. 

Lod. Well, Barabas, canst help me to a diamond ? 50 

Bar. O, sir, your father had my diamonds. 
Yet I have one left that will serve your turn : — 
{Aside) I mean my daughter : but ere he shall have her 
I'll sacrifice her on a pile of wood. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 53 

I ha' the poison of the city for him/ 
And the white leprosy. 

Lod. What sparkle does it give without a foil? 

Bar. The diamond that I talk of ne'er was foiled : ^ — 
{Aside) But when he touches it, it will be foiled : — 
Lord Lodowick, it sparkles bright and fair. 60 

Lod. Is it square or pointed, pray let me know. 

Bar. Pointed it is, good sir — (aside) but not for you. 

Lod. I like it much the better. 

Bar. So do I too. 

Lod. How shows it by night? 

Bar. Outshines Cynthia's rays. 

Lod. And what's the price? 

Bar. {aside) . Your life an if you have it. O my lord, 
We will not jar about the price ; come to my house 
And I will give't your honour {aside) with a vengeance. 

Lod. No, Barabas, I will deserve it first. 

Bar. Good sir, 70 

Your father has deserved it at my hands, 
Who, of mere charity and Christian truth, 
To bring me to religious purity. 
And as it were in catechising sort, 
To make me mindful of my mortal sins, 
Against my will, and whether I would or no. 
Seized all I had, and thrust me out o' doors, 
And made my house a place for nuns most chaste. 

Lod. No doubt your soul shall reap the fruit of it. 

Bar. Ay, but, my lord, the harvest is far off. 80 

And yet I know the prayers of those nuns 
And holy friars, having money for their pains, 
Are wondrous ; {aside) and indeed do no man good : 
1 Dyce suggests that this is a misprint. 2 Defiled, 



54 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT II. 

And seeing they are not idle, but still doing, 
'Tis likely they in time may reap some fruit, 
I mean in fulness of perfection. 

Lod, Good Barabas, glance not at our holy nuns. 

Bar. No, but I do it through a burning zeal, — 
{Aside) Hoping ere long to set the house afire ; 
For though they do a while increase and multiply, 90 

I'll have a saying' to that nunnery. — 
As for the diamond, sir, I told you of. 
Come home and there's no price shall make us part, 
Even for your honourable father's sake. — 
{Aside) It shall go hard but I will see your death. — - 
But now I must be gone to buy a slave. 

Lod. And, Barabas, I'll bear thee company. 

Bar. Come then — here's the market-place. 
What's the price of this slave ? Two hundred crowns ! 
Do the Turks weigh so much ? 

1st Off. Sir, that's his price. 100 

Bar. What, can he steal that you demand so much > 
Belike he has some new trick for a purse ; 
And if he has, he is worth three hundred plates,' 
So that, being bought, the town-seal might be got 
To keep him for his lifetime from the gallows : 
The sessions day is critical to thieves, 
And few or none 'scape but by being purged. 

Lod. Rat'st thou this Moor but at two hundred plates ? 

1st Off. No more, my lord. 

Bar. Why should this Turk be dearer than that Moor? no 

1st Off. Because he is young and has more qualities. 

1 Cf. Barnes's DiviPs Charter, 1607 : " For I must have a saying to those 
bottels." 

2 Pieces of silver. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 55 

Bar. What, hast the philosopher's stone ? an thou hast, 
break my head with it, I'll forgive thee. 

Slave. No, sir; I can cut and.shave. 

Bar. Let me see, sirrah, are you not an old shaver?^ 

Slave. Alas, sir ! I am a very youth. 

Bar. A youth? I'll buy you, and marry you to Lady 
Vanity,- if you do well. 

Slave. I will serve you, sir. 119 

Bar. Some wicked trick or other. It may be, under 
colour of shaving, thou'lt cut my throat for my goods. 
Tell me, hast thou thy health well ? 

Slave. Ay, passing well. 

Bar. So much the worse ; I must have one that's sickly, 
an't be but for sparing victuals ; 'tis not a stone of beef a 
day will maintain you in these chops ; let me see one that's 
somewhat leaner. 

1st Off. Here's a leaner, how like you him ? 

Bar. Where wast thou born ? 

Ilha. In Thrace ; brought up in Arabia. 130 

Bar. So much the better, thou art for my turn. 
An hundred crowns? I'll have him ; there's the coin. 

\_Gives money. 

1st Off. Then mark him, sir, and take him hence. 

Bar. {aside). Ay, mark him, you were best, for this is he 
That by my help shall do much villainy. 
My lord, farewell : Come, sirrah, you are mine. 
As for the diamond, it shall be yours ; 
I pray, sir, be no stranger at my house. 
All that I have shall be at your command. 

1 This term of contempt was originally applied to priests with shaven 
crown. 

2 An allegorical character in the old morality plays ; cf. / Henry /^^ ii, 4. 



c;6 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act II. 



Enter Mathias and his Mother Katherine. 

Math. What makes the Jew and Lodowick so private? 140 
{Aside) I fear me 'tis about fair Abigail. 

Bar. Yonder comes Don Mathias, let us stay ; ^ 

\_Exit Lodowick. 
He loves my daughter, and she holds him dear : 
But I have sworn to frustrate both their hopes, 
And be revenged upon the governor. 

Kath. This Moor is comeliest, is he not? speak, son. 

Math. No, this is the better, mother ; view this well. 

Bar. Seem not to know me here before your mother. 
Lest she mistrust the match that is in hand : 
When you have brought her home, come to my house ; 150 
Think of me as thy father ; son, farewell. 

Math. But wherefore talked Don Lodowick with you? 

Bar. Tush ! man, we talked of diamonds, not of Abigail. 

Kath. Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew? 

Bar. As for the comment on the Maccabees, 
I have it, sir, and 'tis at your command. 

Math. Yes, madam, and my talk with him was but 
About the borrowing of a book or two. 

Kath. Converse not with him, he's cast off from heaven. 
Thou hast thy crowns, fellow ; come, let's away. 160 

Math. Sirrah, Jew, remember the book. 

Bar. Marry will I, sir. 

{^Exeunt Mathias and his Mother. 

Off. Come, I have made reasonable market; let's away. 

\_Exeunt Officers with Slaves. 

Bar. Now let me know thy name, and therewithal 
Thy birth, condition, and profession. 

1 Break off our conversation. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 57 

Itha. Faith, sir, my birth is but mean : my name's 
Ithamore, my profession what you please. 

Bar. Hast thou no trade ? then hsten to my words, 
And I will teach thee that shall stick by thee : 
First be thou void of these affections, 170 

Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear, 
Be moved at nothing, see thou pity none. 
But to thyself smile when the Christians moan. 

Itha. O brave ! master, I worship your nose ^ for this. 

Bar. As for myself, I walk abroad o' nights^ 
And kill sick people groaning under walls : 
Sometimes I go about and poison wells ; 
And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves, 
I am content to lose some of my crowns. 
That I may, walking in my gallery, 180 

See 'em go pinioned along by my door. 
Being young, I studied physic, and began 
To practise first upon the Italian ; 
There I enriched the priests with burials. 
And always kept the sextons' arms in ure ^ 
With digging graves and ringing dead men's knells : 
And after that was I an engineer. 
And in the wars ' twixt France and Germany, 
Under pretence of helping Charles the Fifth, 
Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems. 190 

Then after that w^as I an usurer. 
And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting, 
And tricks belonging unto brokery, 

1 Barabas was represented with a large false nose. So Rowley, in his 
Search for Money (1609), alludes to the " artificiall Jewe of Maltaes nose." 

2 In TUus Andronicus (v, i,) there is a similar catalogue of vill^nies. 

3 Use. 



58 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act II. 

I filled the jails with bankrupts in a year, 

And with young orphans planted hospitals, 

And every moon made some or other mad, 

And now and then one hang himself for grief. 

Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll 

How I with interest tormented him. 

But mark how I am blest for plaguing them ; 200 

I have as much coin as will buy the town. 

But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time ? 

Itha. 'Faith, master, 
In setting Christian villages on fire, 
Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. 
One time I was an ostler in an inn, 
And in the night-time secretly would I steal 
To travellers' chambers, and there cut their throats : 
Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneeled, 
I strewed powder on the marble stones, 210 

And therewithal their knees would rankle so, 
That I have laughed a-good^ to see the cripples 
Go Kmping home to Christendom on stilts. 

Bar. Why this is something : make account of me 
As of thy fellow ; we are villains both : 
Both circumcised, we hate Christians both : 
Be true and secret, thou shalt want no gold. 
But stand aside, here comes Don Lodowick. 

Enter Lodowick.^ 

Lod. O Barbaras, well met ; 
Where is the diamond you told me of? 220 

1 Heartily. 

2 Dyce suggests that the scene is shifted to the outside of Barabas's 
house. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 59 

Bar. I have it for you, sir ; please you walk in with me : 
What ho, Abigail ! open the door, I say. 

Enter Abigail with letters. 

Abig. In good time, father ; here are letters come 
From Ormus, and the post stays here within. 

Bar. Give me the letters. — Daughter, do you hear, 
Entertain Lodowick the governor's son 
With all the courtesy you can afford ; 
{Aside) Use him as if he were a Philistine, 
Dissemble, swear, protest, vow love to him, 
He is not of the seed of Abraham. — 230 

I am a little busy, sir, pray pardon me. 
Abigail, bid him welcome for my sake. 

Abig. For your sake and his own he's welcome hither. 

Bar. {aside). Daughter, a word more; kiss him; speak 
him fair, 
And like a cunning Jew so cast about. 
That ye be both made sure ^ ere you come out. 

Abig. O father ! Don Mathias is my love. 

Bar. {aside) . I know it : yet I say, make love to him ; 
Do, it is requisite it should be so — 

Nay, on my life, it is my factor's hand — 240 

But go you in, I'll think upon the account. 

\_Exeunt Abigail and Lodowick into the house. 
The account is made, for Lodowick he dies, 
My factor sends me word a merchant's fled 
That owes me for a hundred tun of wine : 
I weigh it thus much {snapping his fingers) ; I have wealth 

enough. 
For now by this has he kissed Abigail ; 

1 Betrothed. 



6o THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT II. 

And she vows love to him, and he to her. 

As sure as Heaven rained manna for the Jews, 

So sure shall he and Don Mathias die : 

His father was my chiefest enemy. 250 

Enter Mathias. 

Whither goes Don Mathias ? stay awhile. 

Math. Whither, but to my fair love Abigail ? 

Bar. Thou knovv'st, and Heaven can witness this is true. 
That I intend my daughter shall be thine. 

Math. Ay, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much. 

Bar. O, Heaven forbid I should have such a thought. 
Pardon me though I weep : the governor's son 
Will, whether I will or no, have Abigail : 
He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings. 

Math. Does she receive them? 260 

Bar. She ? No, Mathias, no, but sends them back, 
And when he comes, she locks herself up fast ; 
Yet through the keyhole will he talk to her, 
While she runs to the window looking out. 
When you should come and hale him from the door. 

Math. O treacherous Lodowick ! 

Bar. Even now as I came home, he slipt me in, 
And I am sure he is with Abigail. 

Math. I'll rouse him thence. 

Bar. Not for all Malta, therefore sheathe your sword ; 270 
If you love me, no quarrels in my house ; 
But steal you in, and seem to see him not ; 
I'll give him such a warning ere he goes 
As he shall have small hopes of Abigail. 
Away, for here they come. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 6l 

Re-enter Lodowick and Abigail. 

Math. What, hand in hand ! I cannot suffer this. 

Ba7'. Mathias, as thou lovest me, not a word. 

Math. Well, let it pass, another time shall serve. 

\^Exit into the house. 

Lod. Barabas, is not that the widow's son? 

Bar. Ay, and take heed, for he hath sworn your death. 280 

Lod. My death ? what, is the base-born peasant mad ? 

Bar. No, no, but happily he stands in fear 
Of that which you, I think, ne'er dream upon. 
My daughter here, a paltry silly girl. 

Lod. Why, loves she Don Mathias? 

Bar. Doth she not with her smiling answer you ? 

Abig. (aside). He has my heart; I smile against my will 

Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I've loved thy daughter long. 

Bar. And so has she done you, even from a child. 

Lod. And now I can no longer hold my mind. 290 

Bar. Nor I the affection that I bear to you. 

Lod. This is thy diamond, tell me shall I have it? 

Bar. Win it, and wear it, it is yet unsoiled. 
O ! but I know your lordship would disdain 
To marry with the daughter of a Jew ; 
And yet I'll give her many a golden cross ^ 
With Christian posies ^ round about the ring. 

Lod. 'Tis not thy wealth, but her that I esteem. 
Yet crave I thy consent. 

Bar. And mine you have, yet let me talk to her. — 300 
{Aside) This offspring of Cain, this Jebusite,^ 

1 A coin with a cross stamped on one side, like the Portuguese cruzado. 

2 Mottoes. 

3 The Jebusites were one of the seven Canaanitish nations which, accord- 
ing to the writers of the Old Testament, were doomed to destruction. 



62 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act ii. 

That never tasted of the Passover, 
Nor e'er shall see the land of Canaan, 
Nor our Messias that is yet to come ; 
This gentle maggot, Lodowick, I mean, 
Must be deluded : let him have thy hand, 
But keep thy heart till Don Mathias comes. 

Abig. What, shall I be betrothed to Lodowick? 

Ba?'. It's no sin to deceive a Christian ; 
For they themselves hold it a principle, 310 

Faith is not to be held with heretics ; 
But all are heretics that are not Jews ; 
This follows well, and therefore, daughter, fear not. — 
I have entreated her, and she will grant. 

Lod. Then, gentle Abigail, plight thy faith to me. 

Abig. I cannot choose, seeing my father bids. — 
{Aside) Nothing but death shall part my love and me. 

Lod. Now have I that for which my soul hath longed. 

Bar. (aside) . So have not I, but yet I hope I shall. 

Abig. {aside). O wretched Abigail, what hast thou done? 

Lod. Why on the sudden is your colour changed ? 321 

Abig. I know not, but farewell, I must be gone. 

Bar. Stay her, but let her not speak one word more. 

Lod. Mute o' the sudden? here's a sudden change. 

Bar. O, muse not at it, 'tis the Hebrews' guise, 
That maidens new betrothed should weep awhile : 
Trouble her not ; sweet Lodowick, depart : 
She is thy wife, and thou shalt be mine heir. 

Lod. O, is't the custom ? then I am resolved : 
But rather let the brightsome heavens be dim, 330 

And nature's beauty choke with stifling clouds, 
Than my fair Abigail should frown on me. — 
There comes the villain, now Fll be revenged. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 6$ 



Re-enter Mathias. 

Bar. Be quiet, Lodowick, it is enough 
That I have made thee sure to Abigail. 

Loci. Well, let him go. \^Exit. 

Bar. Well, but for me, as you went in at doors 
You had been stabbed, but not a word on't now ; 
Here must no speeches pass, nor swords be drawn. 

Mafh. Suffer me, Barabas, but to follow him. 340 

Bar. No ; so shall I, if any hurt be done, 
V>Q made an accessory of your deeds ; 
Revenge it on him when you meet him next. 

Math. For this I'll have his heart. 

Bar. Do so ; lo here I give thee Abigail. 

Math. What greater gift can poor Mathias have? 
Shall Lodowick rob me of so fair a love ? 
My life is not so dear as Abigail. 

Bar. My heart misgives me, that, to cross your love, 
He's with your mother ; therefore after him. 350 

Math. What, is he gone unto my mother? 

Bar. Nay, if you will, stay till she comes herself. 

Math. I cannot stay ; for if my mother come. 
She'll die with grief. [Exit. 

Abig. I cannot take my leave of him for tears : 
Father, why have you thus incensed them both? 

Bar. What's that to thee ? 

Abig. I'll make 'em friends again. 

Bar. You'll make 'em friends ! 
Are there not Jews enow in Malta, 360 

But thou must doat upon a Christian? 

Abig. I will have Don Mathias, he is my love. 

Bar. Yes, you shall have him : go put her in. 



64 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act hi. 

Itha. Ay, I'll put her in. {^Puts Abigail in. 

Bar. Now tell me, Ithamore, how lik'st thou this ? 

Itha. Faith, master, I think by this 
You purchase both their lives ; is it not so ? 

Bar. True ; and it shall be cunningly performed. 

Itha. O master, that I might have a hand in this. 

Bar. Ay, so thou shalt, 'tis thou must do the deed : 370 
Take this, and bear it to Mathias straight, [ Gives a letter. 
And tell him that it comes from Lodowick. 

Itha. 'Tis poisoned, is it not? 

Bar. No, no, and yet it might be done that way : 
It is a challenge feigned from Lodowick. 

Itha. Fear not ; I will so set his heart afire, 
That he shall verily think it comes from him. 

Bar. I cannot choose but like thy readiness : 
Yet be not rash, but do it cunningly. 

Itha. As I behave myself in this, employ me hereafter. 380 

Bar. Away then. \^Exit Ithamore. 

So, now will I go in to Lodowick, 
And, like a cunning spirit, feign some lie. 
Till I have set 'em both at enmity. \_Exit, 



ACT III. 

Scene L — Outside of Bellamira's House. 

Enter Bellamira, a Courtesan, on a balcony. 

Bell. Since this town was besieged, my gain grows cold ; 
And yet I know my beauty doth not fail. 
From Venice merchants, and from Padua 
Were wont to come rare-witted gentlemen, 



SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 65 

Scholars I mean, learned and liberal ; 
And now, save Pilia-Borsa, comes there none, 
And he is very seldom from my house ; 
And here he comes. 

Entei' PiLiA-BoRSA. 

Pilia. Hold thee, wench, there's something for thee to 
spend. \_Shews a bag of silver. 10 

Bell. 'Tis silver. I disdain it. 

Pilia. Ay, but the Jew has gold. 
And I will have it, or, it shall go hard. 

Bell. Tell me, how cam'st thou by this ? 

Pilia. 'Faith, walking the back-lanes, through the gardens, 
I chanced to cast mine eye up to the Jew's counting-house, 
where I saw some bags of money, and in the night I clam- 
bered up with my hooks, and, as I was taking my choice, I 
heard a rumbling in the house ; so I took only this, and run 
my way : but here's the Jew's man. 20 

Bell. Hide the bag. 

Enter Ithamore. 

Pilia. Look not towards him, let's away ; zoons, what a 
looking thou keep'st ; thou'lt betray's anon. 

\_Exeunt Bellamira and Pilia-Borsa. 

Itha. O the sweetest face that ever I beheld ! I know she 
is a courtesan by her attire : now would I give a hundred of 
the Jew's crowns that I had such a concubine. 
Well, I have delivered the challenge in such sort. 
As meet they will, and fighting die ; brave sport. \_Exit. 



66 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act III. 

Scene II. — A Street. 

Enter Mathias. 

Math. This is the place ; now Abigail shall see 
Whether Mathias holds her dear or no. 

Enter Lodowick. 

What, dares the villain write in such base terms ? 

\_Readi7ig a letter. 
Lod. I did it ; and revenge it if thou dar'st. \_They fight. 

Enter Barabas, above, on a balcony. 

Bar. O ! bravely fought ; and yet they thrust not home. 

Now, Lodovico ! now, Mathias ! So \_Both/all. 

So now they have showed themselves to be talP fellows. 

\_Cries within.'] Part 'em, part 'em. 

Bar. Ay, part 'em now they are dead. Farewell, fare- 
well. \_Exit. 

Enter Ferneze, Katherine, and Attendants. 

Eef'fi. What sight" is this ! — my Lodowick slain !^ lo 

These arms of mine shall be thy sepulchre. 

Kath. Who is this? my son Mathias slain ! 

Eern. O Lodowick ! had'st thou perished by the Turk, 
Wretched Ferneze might have 'venged thy death. 

Kath. Thy son slew mine, and I'll revenge his death. 

1 Brave. 

" What a sight; the article was often omitted; cf. " What night is this," 
Julius CcEsar, i, 3. 

3 Here, and elsewhere in the play, Lodowick should be written and pro- 
nounced as in Italian, Lodovico, The error is probably due to the copyist 
who first transcribed the play for the press. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 67 

Fern. Look, Katherine, look ! — thy son gave mine these 
wounds. 

Kath. O leave to grieve me, I am grieved enough. 

Fern. O ! that my sighs could turn to lively breath ; 
And these my tears to blood, that he might live. 

Kath. Who made them enemies? 20 

Fern. I know not, and that grieves me most of all. 

Kath. My son loved thine. 

Fern. And so did Lodowick him. 

Kath. Lend me that weapon that did kill my son, 
And it shall murder me. 

Fern. Nay, madam, stay ; that weapon was my son's, 
And on that rather should Ferneze die. 

Kath. Hold, let's inquire the causers of their deaths. 
That we may 'venge their blood upon their heads. 

Fej-n. Then take them up, and let them be interred 30 
Within one sacred monument of stone ; 
Upon which altar I will offer up 
My daily sacrifice of sighs and tears. 
And with my prayers pierce impartial ^ heavens. 
Till they reveal the causers of our smarts. 
Which forced their hands divide united hearts : 
Come, Katherine, our losses equal are. 
Then of true grief let us take equal share. 

\_Exeunt with the bodies. 

Scene III. — A Room in Barabas' House. 

Enter Ithamore. 

Itha. Why, was there ever seen such villainy, 
So neatly plotted, and so well performed ? 
Both held in hand,^ and flatly both beguiled ? 

1 Unkind. 2 Kept in expectancy. 



68 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act ill. 

Enter Abigail. 

Abig. Why, how now, Ithamore, why laugh'st thou so ? 

Jtha. O mistress, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Abig. Why, what ail'st thou ? 

Jtha. O my master ! 

Abig. Ha! 

Itha. O mistress ! I have the bravest, gravest, secret, sub- 
tle, bottle-nosed knave to my master, that ever gentleman 
had. n 

Abig. Say, knave, why rail'st upon my father thus? 

Jtha. O, my master has the bravest policy. 

Abig. Wherein? 

Jtha. Why, know you not ? 

Abig. Why, no. 

Jtha. Know you not of Matthias' and Don Lodowick's 
disaster? 

Abig. No, what was it ? 19 

Jtha. Why, the devil invented a challenge, my master 
writ it, and I carried it, first to Lodowick, and imprimis to 
Mathias. 

And then they met, and, as the story says. 
In doleful wise they ended both their days. 

Abig. And was my father furtherer of their deaths ? 

Jtha. Am I Ithamore? 

Abig. Yes. 

Jtha. So sure did your father write, and I carry the 
challenge. 

Abig. Well, Ithamore, let me request thee this, 30 

Go to the new-made nunnery, and inquire 
For any of the friars of Saint Jacques,^ 

1 St. James. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 69 

And say, I pray them come and speak with me. 

Itha. I will, forsooth, mistress. \^Exit. 

Abig. Hard-hearted father, unkind Barabas ! 
Was this the pursuit of thy policy ! 
To make me show them favour severally, 
That by my favour they should both be slain? 
Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowick for his sire, 
Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee : 40 

But thou wert set upon extreme revenge, 
Because the prior dispossessed thee once. 
And could'st not 'venge it, but upon his son 
Nor on his son, but by Mathias' means; 
Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me. 
But I perceive there is no love on earth. 
Pity in Jews, or piety in Turks. 
But here comes cursed Ithamore, with the friar. 

Elite}- Ithamore and Friar Jacomo. 

F.Jac. Virgo, salve. 

Jtha. When ! ^ duck you ! 50 

Abig. Welcome, grave friar ; Ithamore, begone ! 

\^Exit Ithamore. 
Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee. 

F.Jac. Wherein? 

Abig. To get me be admitted for a nun. 

F. Jac. Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since 
That I did labour thy admission. 
And then thou didst not like that holy life. 

Abig. Then were my thoughts so frail and unconfirmed, 
x\nd I was chained to follies of the world : 
But now experience, purchased with grief, 60 

1 Exclamation of impatience. 



70 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act ill. 

Has made me see the difference of things. 
My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long 
The fatal labyrinth of misbelief. 
Far from the sun that gives eternal life. 

F.Jac. Who taught thee this? 

Abig. The abbess of the house. 
Whose zealous admonition I embrace : 
O, therefore, Jacomo, let me be one. 
Although unworthy, of that sisterhood. 

F. Jac. Abigail, I will, but see thou change no more, 70 
For that will be most heavy to thy soul. 

Abig. That was my father's fault. 

F.Jac. Thy father's! how? 

Abig. Nay, you shall pardon me. [Aside) O Barabas, 
Though thou deservest hardly at my hands, 
Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life. 

F.Jac. Come, shall we go? 

Abig. My duty waits on you. \Exeunt. 



Scene IV. — A Room in Barabas' House. 

Enter Barabas, 7'eading a letter. 

Bar. What, Abigail become a nun again ! 
False and unkind ; what, hast thou lost thy father? 
And all unknown, and unconstrained of me. 
Art thou again got to the nunnery? 
Now here she writes, and wills me to repent. 
Repentance ! Spurcaf what pretendeth ^ this ? 
I fear she knows — 'tis so — of my device 
In Don Mathias' and Lodovico's deaths : 

1 Portendeth. 



SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 7 1 

If SO, 'tis time that it be seen into : 

For she that varies from me in belief 10 

Gives great presumption that she loves me not ; 

Or loving, doth dislike of something done. — 

But who comes here ? 

Enter Ithamore. 

O Ithamore, come near ; 
Come near, my love ; come near, thy master's life, 
My trusty servant, nay, my second self: 
For I have now no hope but even in thee, 
And on that hope my happiness is built. 
When saw'st thou Abigail ? 

Itha. To-day. 

Bar. With whom ? 2=> 

Itha. A friar. 

Bar. A friar ! false villain, he hath done the deed. 

Itha. How, sir? 

Bar. Why, made mine Abigail a nun. 

Itha. That's no lie, for she sent me for him. 

Bar. O unhappy day ! 
False, credulous, inconstant Abigail ! 
But let 'me go : and, Ithamore, from hence 
Ne er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace ; 
Ne'er shall she live to inherit aught of mine, 30 

Be blest of me, nor come within my gates. 
But perish underneath my bitter curse. 
Like Cain by Adam for his brother's death. 

Itha. O master ! 

Bar. Ithamore, entreat not for her, I am moved, 
And she is hateful to my soul and me : 
And 'less thou yield to this that I entreat. 



72 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act hi. 

I cannot think but that thou hat'st my life. 

Itha. Who, 1, master? Why, I'll run to some rock. 
And throw myself headlong into the sea ; 40 

Why, I'll do anything for your sweet sake. 

Bar. O trusty Ithamore, no servant, but my friend : 
I here adopt thee for mine only heir, 
All that I have is thine when I am dead, 
And whilst I live use half; spend as myself; 
Here take my keys, I'll give 'em thee anon : 
Go buy thee garments : but thou shalt not want : 
Only know this, that thus thou art to do : 
But first go fetch me in the pot of rice 
That for our supper stands upon the fire. 50 

Itha. {aside). I hold my head my master's hungry. I go, 
sir. \^Exif. 

Bar. Thus every villain ambles after wealth. 
Although he ne'er be richer than in hope : 
But, husht ! 

Re-enter Ithamore with the pot. 

Itha. Here 'tis, master. 

Bar. Well said, Ithamore ; what, hast thou brought 
The ladle with thee too ? 

Itha. Yes, sir, the proverb^ says he that eats with the 
devil had need of a long spoon. I have brought you a 
ladle. 

Bar. Very well, Ithamore, then now be secret ; 60 

And for thy sake, whom I so dearly love. 
Now shalt thou see the death of Abigail, 
That thou may'st freely live to be my heir. 

1 This proverb is found in Chaucer's Squieres Tale, in A Comedy of 
Errors, etc. 



SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 73 

Itha. Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of 
rice porridge ? that will preserve life, make her round and 
plump, and batten more than you are aware. 

Bar. Ay, but, Ithamore, seest thou this? 
It is a precious powder that I bought 
Of an ItaKan, in Ancona, once. 

Whose operation is to bind, infect, 70 

And poison deeply, yet not appear 
In forty hours after it is ta'en. 

Itha. How, master? 

Bar. Thus, Ithamore. 
This even they use in Malta here, — 'tis called 
Saint Jacques' Even, — and then I say they use 
To send their alms into the nunneries : 
Among the rest bear this, and set it there ; 
There's a dark entry where they take it in. 
Where they must neither see the messenger, So 

Nor make inquiry who hath sent it them. 

Itha. How so ? 

Bar. Belike there is some ceremony in't. 
There, Ithamore, must thou go place this pot ! 
Stay, let me spice it first. 

Itha. Pray do, and let me help you, master. Pray let 
me taste first. 

Bar. Prythee do (Ithamore tastes) : what say'st thou 
now? 

Itha. Troth, master, I'm loth such a pot of pottage 
should be spoiled. 90 

Bar. Peace, Ithamore, 'tis better so than spared. 
Assure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye/ 
My purse, my coffer, and myself is thine. 

1 In abundance. 



74 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act hi. 

Itha. Well, master, I go. 

Bar. Stay, first let me stir it, Ithamore. 
As fatal be it to her as the draught 
Of which great Alexander drunk and died : 
And with her let it work like Borgia's wine, 
Whereof his sire, the Pope, was poisoned. 
In few,^ the blood of Hydra, Lerna's bane : loo 

The juice of hebon,- and Cocytus' breath, 
And all the poisons of the Stygian pool 
Break from the fiery kingdom ; and in this 
Vomit your venom and invenom her 
That like a fiend hath left her father thus. 

Itha. {aside). What a blessing has he given't ! was ever 
pot of rice porridge so sauced ! What shall I do with it ? 

Bar. O, my sweet Ithamore, go set it down. 
And come again so soon as thou hast done. 
For I have other business for thee. no 

Itha. Here's a drench to poison a whole stable of Flan- 
ders mares : I'll carry' t to the nuns with a powder. 

Bar. And the horse pestilence to boot ; away ! 

Itha. I am gone. 
Pay me my wages, for my work is done. [^Exit. 

Bar. I'll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore. [^Exit. 

Scene V. — The Senate-house. 
Enter Ferneze, Martin del Bosco, Knights, and Basso. 

Fe?'n. Welcome, great basso ; how fares Calymath? 
What wind drives you thus into Malta-road ? 

Bas. The wind that bloweth all the world besides, — 
Desire of gold. 

1 In short. 2 xhe juice of ebony, regarded as a deadly poison. 



SCENE v.] THE JEW OF MALTA. yr 

Fern. Desire of gold, great sir? 
That's to be gotten in the Western Ind : 
In Malta are no golden minerals. 

Bas. To you of Malta thus saith Calymath : 
The time you took for respite is at hand, 
For the performance of your promise passed, lo 

And for the tribute-money I am sent. 

Fern. Basso, in brief, 'shalt have no tribute here, 
Nor shall the heathens live upon our spoil : 
First will we raze the city walls ourselves. 
Lay waste the island, hew the temples down. 
And, shipping off our goods to Sicily, 
Open an entrance for the wasteful sea. 
Whose billows beating the resistless ^ banks. 
Shall overflow it with their refluence. 

Bas. Well, Governor, since thou hast broke the league 20 
By flat denial of the promised tribute, 
Talk not of razing down your city walls, 
You shall not need trouble yourselves so far, 
P'or S^plim Calymath shall come himself. 
And with brass bullets batter down your towers, 
And turn proud Malta to a wilderness 
For these intolerable wrongs of yours ; 
And so farewell. 

Fern. Farewell : {^Exit Basso. 

And now, ye men of Malta, look about, 30 

And let's provide to welcome Calymath : 
Close your portcullis, charge your basilisks,^ 
And as you profitably take up arms, 
So now courageously encounter them ; 
For by this answer, broken is the league, 

1 Unable to resist. 2 Immense cannon. 



76 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act III. 

And naught is to be looked for now but wars, 

And naught to us more welcome is than wars. \_Exeunt 



Scene VI. — A Room in a Convent. 
Enter Friar Jacomo and Friar Barnardine. 

F. Jac. O, brother, brother, all the nuns are sick, 
And physic will not help them : they must die. 

F. Barn. The abbess sent for me to be confessed : 
O, what a sad confession will there be ! 

F.Jac. And so did fair Maria send for me : 
I'll to her lodging : hereabouts she lies. [Exit. 

Enter Abigail. 

F. Barn. What, all dead, save only Abigail? 
. Adig. And I shall die too, for I feel death coming. 
Where is the friar that conversed with me ? 

F. Barn. O, he is gone to see the other nuns. lo 

Abig. I sent for him, but seeing you are come. 
Be you my ghostly father : and first know. 
That in this house I lived religiously, 
Chaste, and devout, much sorrowing for my sins ; 
But ere I came 

F. -Barn. What then ? 

Abig. I did offend high Heaven so grievously, 
As I am almost desperate for my sins : 
And one offence torments me more than all. 
You knew Mathias and Don Lodowick? 20 

F. Barn. Yes, what of them? 

Abig. My father did contract me to 'em both : 
First to Don Lodowick ; him I never loved ; 



SCENE VI.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 77 

Mathias was the man that I held dear, 
And for his sake did I become a nun. 

F. Barn. So, say how was their end? 

Abig. Both jealous of my love, envied ^ each other, 
And by my father's practice,^ which is there 
Set down at large, the gallants were both slain. 

[ Gives a written paper. 

F. Barn. O monstrous villainy ! 30 

Abig. To work my peace, this I confess to thee ; 
Reveal it not, for then my father dies. 

F. Barn. Know that confession must not be revealed. 
The canon law forbids it» and the priest 
That makes it known, being degraded first, 
Shall be condemned, and then sent to the fire. 

Abig. So I have heard ; pray, therefore keep it close. 
Death seizeth on my heart : ah gentle friar. 
Convert my father that he may be saved, 
And witness that I die a Christian. \^Dies. 40 

F. Barn. Ay, and a virgin too ; that grieves me most : 
But I must to the Jew and exclaim on him. 
And make him stand in fear of me. 

Re-enter Friar Jacomo. 

F. Jac. O brother, all the nuns are dead, let's bury them. 
F. Barn. First help to bury this, then go with me 
And help me to exclaim against the Jew. 
F.Jac. Why, what has he done? 
F. Barn. A thing that makes me tremble to unfold. 
F. Jac. What, has he crucified a child ? ^ 

1 Hated ; the accent is on the second syllable. 2 Artifice. 

3 The Jews were often accused of this crime, especially when the king 
was in need of money. 



78 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act iv. 

F. Barn. No, but a worse thing : 'twas told to me in 

shrift, 50 
Thou know'st 'tis death an if it be revealed. 

Come, let's away. \_Exetint. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — A Sti-eet. 
Enter Barabas and Ithamore. Bells within. 

Bar. There is no music to ^ a Christian's knell : 
How sweet the bells ring now the nuns are dead, 
That sound at other times like tinker's pans ! 
I was afraid the poison had not wrought ; 
Or though it wrought, it would have done no good : 
Now all are dead, not one remains alive. 

Itha. That's brave, master, but think you it will not be 
known? 

Bar. How can it, if we two be secret ? 

Itha. For my part fear you not. 

Bar. I'd cut thy throat if I did. 10 

Itha. And reason too. 
But here's a royal monastery hard by ; 
Good master, let me poison all the monks. 

Bar. Thou shalt not need, for now the nuns are dead 
They'll die with grief 

Itha. Do you not sorrow for your daughter's death? 

Bar. No, but I grieve because she lived so long. 
An Hebrew born, and would become a Christian ! 
Cazzo, diabolo. 

1 Equal to. 



SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 79 

Enter Friar Jacomo and Friar Barnardine. 

Itha. Look, look, master, here come two religious cater- 
pillars. 21 
Bar. I smelt 'em ere they came. 
Jiha. God-a-mercy, nose ! come, let's be gone. 
F. Barn. Stay, wicked Jew, repent, I say, and stay. 
F. Jac. Thou hast offended, therefore must be damned. 
Bar. I fear they know we sent the poisonei broth. 
Itha. And so do I, master ; therefore speak 'em fair. 

F. Barn. Barabas, thou hast 

F. Jac. Ay, that thou hast 

Bar. True, I have money, what though I have? -ifl 

F. Barn. Thou art a 

F. Jac. Ay, that thou art, a 

Bar. What needs all this ? I know I am a Jew. 

F. Barn. Thy daughter 

F. Jac. Ay, thy daughter 

Bar. O speak not of her ! then I die with grief. 

F. Bam. Remember that 

F. Jac. Ay, remember that 



Bar. I must needs say that I have been a great usurer. 

F. Barn. Thou hast committed 40 

Bar. Fornication — but that was in another country ; 
And besides, the wench is dead. 

F. Barn. Ay, but, Barabas, 
Remember Mathias and Don Lodowick. 

Bar. Why, what of them ? 

F. Barn. I will not say that by a forged challenge they 
met. 

Bar. {aside) . She has confest, and we are both undone. 
My bosom inmate ! but I must dissemble. — 



8o THE JEW OF MALTA. [act I v. 

holy friars, the burthen of my sins 

Lie heavy on my soul ; then pray you tell me, 50 

Is't not too late now to turn Christian? 

1 have been zealous in the Jewish faith, 
Hard-hearted to the poor, a covetous wretch, 
That would for lucre's sake have sold my soul. 
A hundred for a hundred I have ta'en ; 

And now for store of wealth may I compare 

With all the Jews of Malta ; but what is wealth ? 

I am a Jew, and therefore am I lost. 

Would penance serve to atone for this my sin, 

I could afford to whip myself to death 60 

Itha. And so could I ; but penance will not serve. 

Ba?\ To fast, to pray, and wear a shirt of hair. 
And on my knees creep to Jerusalem. 
Cellars of wine, and sollars ^ full of wheat. 
Warehouses stuft with spices and with drugs. 
Whole chests of gold, in bullion, and in coin. 
Besides I know not how much weight in pearl. 
Orient and round, have I within my house ; 
At Alexandria, merchandise unsold : ^ 

But yesterday two ships went from this town, 70 

Their voyage will be worth ten thousand crowns. 
In Florence, Venice, Antwerp, London, Seville, 
Frankfort, Lubeck, Moscow, and where not. 
Have I debts owing ; and in most of these. 
Great sums of money lying in the banco ; 
All this I'll give to some religious house. 
So I may be baptized, and live therein. 

1 Attics, or lofts (Latin solariujji) ; still used in some parts of England, 
and in legal documents. 
'^ Dyce suggests untold. 



SCENE J.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 8 1 

F. Jac. O good Barabas, come to our house. 

F. Bai'ii. O no, good Barabas, come to our house ; 
And, Barabas, you know 80 

Bar. I know that I have highly sinned. 
You shall convert me, you shall have all my wealth. 

F. Jac. O Barabas, their laws are strict. 

Ba7'. I know they are, and I will be with you. 

F. Barn. They wear no shirts, and they go barefoot too. 

Bar. {to Barn.). Then 'tis not for me ; and I am resolved 
You shall confess me, and have all my goods. 

F.Jac. Good Barabas, come to me. 

Bar. You see I answer him, and yet he stays ; 
Rid him away, and go you home with me. 90 

F. Jac. I'll be with you to-night. 

Bar. Come to my house at one o'clock this night. 

F.Jac. You hear your answer, and you may be gone. 

F. Barn. Why, go get you away. 

F.Jac. I will not go for thee. 

F. Barn. Not ! then I'll make thee go. 

F.Jac. How, dost call me rogue? \They fight. 

Itha. Part 'em, master, part 'em. 

Bar. This is mere frailty, brethren ; be content. 
{Aside to Barn.) Friar Barnardine, go you with Ithamore : 100 
You know my mind, let me alone with him. 

F. Jac. Why does he go to thy house ? let him be gone. 

Bar. I'll give him something and so stop his mouth. 

\^Exit Ithamore with Friar Barnardine. 
I never heard of any man but he 
Maligned the order of the Jacobins : 
But do you think that I believe his words ? 
Why, brother, you converted Abigail ; 
And I am bound in charity to requite it, 



82 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act IV. 

And SO I will. O Jacomo, fail not, but come. 

F.Jac. But, Barabas, who shall be your godfathers? no 
For presently you shall be shrived. 

Bar. Marry, the Turk ^ shall be one of my godfathers. 
But not a word to any of your covent.^ 

F.Jac. I warrant thee, Barabas. \_Exif. 

Bar. So, now the fear is past, and I am safe, 
For he that shrived her is within my house ; 
What if I murdered him ere Jacomo comes ? 
Now I have such a plot for both their lives 
As never Jew nor Christian knew the like : 
One turned my daughter, therefore he shall die ; 120 

The other knows enough to have my life. 
Therefore 'tis not requisite he should live. 
But are not both these wise men to suppose 
That I will leave my house, my goods, and all. 
To fast and be well whipt? I'll none of that. 
Now, Friar Barnardine, I come to you, 
I'll feast you, lodge you, give you fair words. 
And after that, I and my trusty Turk — 
No more, but so : it must and shall be done. \^Exit. 



Scene II. — A Roo7n in Barabas' House. 
Enter Barabas and Ithamore. 

Bar. Ithamore, tell me, is the friar asleep ? 

Itha. Yes ; and I know not what the reason is, 
Do what I can he will not strip himself. 
Nor go to bed, but sleeps in his own clothes ; 
I fear me he mistrusts what we intend. 

1 Ithamore. 2 Convent ; this form still appears in Covent Garden. 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 8^ 

Bar. No, 'tis an order which the friars use : 
Yet, if he knew our meanings, could he 'scape ? 

Itha. No, none can hear him, cry he ne'er so loud. 

Ba?-. Why, true, therefore did I place him there : 
The other chambers open towards the street. lo 

Itha. You loiter, master ; wherefore stay we thus ? 
O how I long to see him shake his heels. 

Bai'. Come on, sirrah. 
Off with your girdle, make a handsome noose. 

[Ith-'VMORE takes off his girdle and ties a noose in it. 
Friar, awake ! {They put the noose round the Friar's neck. 

F. Barn. What, do you mean to strangle me ? 

Itha. Yes, 'cause you use to confess. 

Bar. Blame not us but the proverb, Confess and be 
hanged ; pull hard ! 

F. Barn. What, will you have my life ? 20 

Bar. Pull hard, I say; you would have had my goods. 

Itha. Ay, and our lives too, therefore pull amain. 

{They strangle him. 
'Tis neatly done, sir, here's no print at all. 

Bar. Then it is as it should be ; take him up. 

Itha. Nay, master, be ruled by me a httle. {Stands the 
body upright against the wall and puts a staff in its hand.) So, 
let him lean upon his staff; excellent ! he stands as if he were 
begging of bacon. ^ 

Bar. Who would not think but that this friar lived ? 
What time o' night is't now, sweet Ithamore ? 3° 

Itha. Towards one. 

Bar. Then will not Jacomo be long from hence. 

{Exeunt. 
1 The body was stood up outside of the house. 



84 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT IV. 

Scene III. — Outside Bar.4Bas' House. 

Enter Friar Jacomo. 

F. Jac. This is the hour wherein I shall proceed/ 
O happy hour wherein I shall convert 
An infidel, and bring his gold into our treasury ! ^ 
But soft, is not this Barnardine ? it is ; 
And, understanding I should come this way. 
Stands here a purpose, meaning me some wrong, 
And intercept my going to the Jew. — 
Barnardine ! 

Wilt thou not speak ? thou think'st I see thee not ; 
Away, I'd wish thee, and let me go by : lo 

No, wilt thou not? nay, then, I'll force my way; 
And see, a staff stands ready for the purpose : 
As thou lik'st that, stop me another time. 

\_Takes the staff and st?'ikes the body, which falls down. 

Efiter Barabas and Ithaimore. 

Bar. Why, how now, Jacomo, what hast thou done ? 

F. Jac. Why, stricken him that would have struck at me. 

Bar. Who is it ? Barnardine ? now out, alas, he's slain ! 

Itha. Ay, master, he's slain ; look how his brains drop 
out on's^ nose. 

F.Jac. Good sirs, I have done't, but nobody knows it 
but you two — I may escape. 20 

Bar. So might my man and I hang with you for company. 

1 Succeed. 

2 BuUen rearranges these lines thus : 

" O happy hour 
Wherein I shall convert an infidel. 
And bring his gold into our treasury." 

3 Of his. 



SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 85 

Itha. No, let us bear him to the magistrates. 

F. Jac. Good Barabas, let me go. 

Bar-. No, pardon me ; the law must have its course. 
I must be forced to give in evidence, 
That being importuned by this Barnardine 
To be a Christian, I shut him out, 
And there he sat : now I, to keep my word, 
And give my goods and substance to your house, 
Was up thus early ; with intent to go 30 

Unto your friary, because you stayed. 

Itha. Fie upon 'em, master ; will you turn Christian when 
holy friars turn devils and murder one another? 

Bar. No, for this example I'll remain a Jew : 
Heaven bless me ! what, a friar a murderer? 
When shall you see a Jew commit the like ? 

Itha. Why, a Turk could ha' done no more. 

Bar. To-morrow is the sessions ; you shall to it. 
Come, Ithamore, let's help to take him hence. 

F.Jac. Villains, I am a sacred person; touch me not. 40 

Bar. The law shall touch you, we'll but lead you, we : 
'Las, I could weep at your calamity ! 
Take in the staff too, for that must be shown : 
Law wills that each particular be known. \_Exeunt. 

Scene IV. — A Veranda of Bellamira's House. 

Enter Bellamira and Pilia-Borsa. 

Bell. Pilia-Borsa, did'st thou meet with Ithamore ? 

Pilia. I did. 

Bell. And did'st thou deliver my letter? 

Pilia. I did. 

Bell. And what think'st thou ? will he come ? 



S6 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT IV. 

Pi/i'a. I think so, but yet I cannot tell ; for at the read- 
ing of the letter he looked like a man of another world. 

Be//. Why so? 

J^i/i'a. That such a base slave as he should be saluted by 
such a talP man as I am, from such a beautiful dame as you. 

Be//. And what said he ? n 

Pi/ia. Not a wise word, only gave me a nod, as who 
should say, '' Is it even so ? " and so I left him, being driven 
to a non-plus at the critical aspect of my terrible countenance. 

Be//. And where didst meet him? 

Pi/ia. Upon mine OAvn freehold, within forty feet of the 
gallows, conning his neck-verse,^ I take it, looking of^ a 
friar's execution, whom I saluted with an old hempen prov- 
erb, Hodie tibi, eras 7iiilii, and so I left him to the mercy of 
the hangman : but the exercise ^ being done, see where he 
comes.^ 21 

Enter Ithamore. 

It/ia. I never knew a man take his death so patiently as 
this friar ; he was ready to leap off ere the halter was about 
his neck ; and when the hangman had put on his hempen 
tippet, he made such haste to his prayers, as if he had had 
another cure to serve. Well, go whither he will, I'll be none 
of his followers 4n haste : and, now I think on't, going to the 
execution, a fellow met me with a muschatoes*' like a raven's 
wing, and a dagger with a hilt like a warming-pan, and he 
gave me a letter from one Madam Bellamira, saluting me lo 
in such sort as if he had meant to make clean my boots with 

1 Brave. 

2 The " neck-verse " which criminals had to read to secure the benefit 
of the clergy, was usually Psalm H, i. 

3 On. 6 cf. Richard III, iii, 2, 

4 Sermon. 6 Mustachios. 



SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 87 

his lips ; the effect was, that I should come to her house. I 
wonder what the reason is ; it may be she sees more in me 
than I can find in myself : for she writes further, that she 
loves me ever since she saw me, and who would not requite 
such love? Here's her house, and here she comes, and now 
would I were gone ; I am not worthy to look upon her. 

Pilia. This is the gentleman you writ to. 

Itha. {aside) . Gentleman ! he flouts me ; what gentry can 
be in a poor Turk of tenpence?^ I'll be gone. 40 

Bell. Is't not a sweet-faced youth, Pilia? 

Itha. {aside). Again, "sweet youth !" — Did not you, sir, 
bring the sweet youth a letter ? 

Pilia. I did, sir, and from this gentlewoman, who, as 
myself, and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your 
service. 

Bell. Though woman's modesty should hale me back, I 
can withhold no longer ; welcome, sweet love. 

Itha. {aside). Now am I clean, or rather foully out of the 
way. 50 

Bell. Whither so soon ? 

Itha. {aside). I'll go steal some money from my master 
to make me handsome. — Pray pardon me, I must go and 
see a ship discharged. 

Bell. Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus ? 

Pilia. An ye did but know how she loves you, sir ! 

Itha. Nay, I care not how much she loves me — Sweet 
Bellamira, would I had my master's wealth for thy sake ! 

Pilia. And you can have it, sir, an if you please. 59 

Itha. If 'twere above ground, I could and would have it ; 
but he hides and buries it up, as partridges do their eggs, 
under the earth. 

1 A contemptuous term, common at that time. 



88 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act I v. 

Pi'/ia. And is't not possible to find it out ? 

I^/ia. By no means possible. 

jBe//. (asufe to Pill4.). What shall we do with this base 
villain then? 

Pilia. {aside to Bell.). Let me alone ; do you but speak 
him fair. — 

But, sir, you know some secrets of the Jew, 
Which, if they were revealed, would do him harm. 70 

Itha. Ay, and such as — Go to, no more ! I'll make him 
send me half he has, and glad he 'scapes so too. I'll write 
unto him ; we'll have money straight. 

Pilia. Send for a hundred crowns at least. 

Itha. Ten hundred thousand crowns. ( Writing) " Master 
Barabas." 

Pilia. Write not so submissively, but threatening him. 

Itha. {writing) . '-^ ^iiidki, Barabas, send me a hundred 
crowns." 

Pilia. Put in two hundred at least. 80 

Itha. {writing). " I charge thee send me three hundred by 
this bearer, and this shall be your warrant : if you do not — 
no more, but so." 

Pilia. Tell him you will confess. 

Itha. {writing). "Otherwise I'll confess all." — Vanish, 
and return in a twinkle. 

Pilia. Let me alone ; I'll use him in his kind. 

\_Exit PiLiA-BoRSA with the letter. 

Itha. Hang him, Jew ! 

Bell. Now, gentle Ithamore, 
Where are my maids ? provide a running ^ banquet ; 90 

Send to the merchant, bid him bring me silks, 
Shall Ithamore, my love, go in such rags? 

1 Hasty. 



SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 89 

Itha. And bid the jeweller come hither too. 

Bell. I have no husband, sweet ; I'll marry thee. 

Itha. Content : but we will leave this paltry land, 
And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece. 
I'll be thy Jason, thou my golden fleece ; 
Where painted carpets o'er the meads are hurled, 
And Bacchus' vineyards overspread tlie world ; 
Where woods and forests go in goodly green, 100 

I'll be Adonis, thou shalt be Love's Queen. 
The meads, the orchards, and the primrose-lanes, 
Instead of sedge and reed, bear sugar-canes : 
Thou in those groves, by Dis above,^ 
Shalt live with me and be my love.^ 

Bell. Whither will I not go with gentle Ithamore? 

Re-enter Pilia-Borsa. 

Itha. How now? hast thou the gold? 

Filia. Yes. 

Itha. But came it freely? did the cow give down her milk 
freely? no 

Filia. At reading of the letter, he stared and stamped and 
turned aside. I took him by the beard, and looked upon 
him thus ; told him he were best to send it ; then he hugged 
and embraced me. 

Itha. Rather for fear than love. 

Filia. Then, like a Jew, he laughed and jeered, and told 
me he loved me for your sake, and said what a faithful ser- 
vant you had been. 

1 This blunder is intentionally made. 

2 Marlowe's well-known lyric, The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, 
begins, " Come live with me, and be my love, 

And we will all the pleasures prove 
That hills and valleys, dales and fields, 
Woods or steepy mountains, yields." 



90 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT IV. 

Itha. The more villain he to keep me thus ; here's 
goodly 'parel, is there not ? 120 

Pilia. To conclude, he gave me ten crowns. 

[ Gives the inoney to Ithamore. 

Itha. But ten ? I'll not leave him worth a grey groat. 
Give me a ream ^ of paper ; we'll have a kingdom of gold 
for't. 

Pilia. Write for five hundred crowns. 

Itha. (wr///;/^). "Sirrah, Jew, as you love your hfe send 
me five hundred crowns, and give the bearer one hundred." — 
Tell him I must have't. 

Pilia. I warrant your worship shall have't. 

Itha. And if he ask why I demand so much, tell him I 
scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns. 131 

Pilia. You'd make a rich poet, sir. I am gone. \^Exit. 

Itha. Take thou the money ; spend it for my sake. 

Bell. 'Tis not thy money, but thyself I weigh ; 
Thus Bellamira esteems of gold. \_Th7-ows it aside. 

But thus of thee. S^Kisses him, 

Itha. That kiss again ! she runs division ' of my lips. 
What an eye she casts on me ! It twinkles like a star. 

Bell. Come, my dear love, let's in ! \_Exeunt. 

Scene V. — A Room in Barabas' House. 

Enter Barabas, reading a letter. 

Bar. "Barabas, send me three hundred crowns." — 
Plain Barabas ! O, that wicked courtesan ! 



1 A play on the words realm and kingdom ; realm was often written and 
pronounced ream. 

2 A musical term. " Divisions for the voice are intended to be sung in 
one breath to one syllable. The performance of this style of music is called 
running a division." — Stainer and Barrett : Diet, of Musical Terms. 



SCENE v.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 9 1 

He was not wont to call me Barabas. 

" Or else I will confess : " ay, there it goes : 

But, if I get him, coupe de gorge for that. 

He sent a shaggy tattered staring slave, 

That when he speaks draws out his grisly beard. 

And winds it twice or thrice about his ear ; 

Whose face has been a grindstone for men's swords ; ^ 

His hands are hacked, some fingers cut quite off; 10 

Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks 

Like one that is employed in catzerie "- 

And crossbiting^ — 

And I by him must send three hundred crowns ! 

Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still ; 

And when he comes : O, that he were but here ! 

Enter PiLiA-BoRSA. 

Pilia. Jew, I must have more gold. 

Bar. Why, want'st thou any of thy tale ? ^ 

Pilia. No ; but three hundred will not serve his turn. 

Bar. Not serve his turn, sir? 20 

Pilia. No, sir ; and, therefore, I must have five hundred 
more. 

Bar. I'll rather 

Pilia. O good words, sir, and send it you were best ! see, 
there's his letter. [ Gives letter. 

Bar. Might he not as well come as send ? pray bid him 
come and fetch it; what he writes for you, ye shall have 
straight. 

Pilia. Ay, and the rest too, or else 

Bar. {aside) . I must make this villain away. 30 

1 Cf. Arde7i 0/ Fevtrshatn. 3 Swindling. 

2 Knavery. 4 Reckoning. 



92 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act iv. 

Please you dine with me, sir ; — {aside) and you shall be 
most heartily poisoned. 

Fi/ia. No, God-a-riiercy. Shall I have these crowns? 

Ba?'. I cannot do it, I have lost my keys. 

Fi/ia. O, if that be all, I can pick ope your locks. 

Bar. Or climb up to my counting-house window : you 
know my meaning, 

Filia. I know enough, and therefore talk not to me of 
your counting-house. The gold ! or know, Jew, it is in my 
power to hang thee. 40 

Bar. {aside). I am betrayed, — 
'Tis not five hundred crowns that I esteem, 
I am not moved at that : this angers me. 
That he, who knows I love him as myself. 
Should write in this imperious vein. Why, sir. 
You know I have no child, and unto whom 
, Should I leave all but unto Ithamore ? 

Filia. Here's many words, but no crowns : the crowns ! 

Bar. Commend me to him, sir, most humbly, 
And unto your good mistress, as unknown. 50 

Filia. Speak, shall I have 'em, sir? 

Bar. Sir, here they are. — \_Gives jnoney. 

{Aside) O, that I should part with so much gold ! 

Here, take 'em, fellow, with as good a will 

{Aside) As I would see thee hanged; O, love stops my 

breath : 
Never man servant loved as I do Ithamore ! 

Filia. I know it, sir. 

Bar. Pray, when, sir, shall I see you at my house ? 

Filia. Soon enough, to your cost, sir. Fare you well. 

lExif. 

Bar. Nay, to thine own cost, villain, if thou com'st ! 60 



SCENE v.] THE JEW OF MALTA. g^ 

Was ever Jew tormented as I am ? 

To have a shag-rag knave to come, force from me 

Three hundred crowns, — and then five hundred crowns ! 

Well, I must seek a means to rid 'em all. 

And presently ; for in his villainy 

He will tell all he knows, and I shall die for't. 

I have it : 

I will in some disguise go see the slave. 

And how the villain revels with my gold. [_£xi/. 

Scene VI. — Balcony of Bellamira's House, 
Enter Bellamira, Ithamore, a7id Pilia-Borsa. 

Bell. I'll pledge thee, love, and therefore drink it off. 

Itha. Say'st thou me so? have at it; and do you hear? 

[ Whispers. 

Bell. Go to, it shall be so. 

Itha. Of ^ that condition I will drink it up. 
Here's to thee ! 

Bell. Nay, I'll have all or none. 

Itha. There, if thou lov'st me do not leave a drop. 

Bell. Love thee ! fill me three glasses. 

Itha. Three and fifty dozen, I'll pledge thee. 

Pilia. Knavely spoke, and like a knight-at-arms. lo 

Itha. Hey, Rivo Castiliano/^ a man's a man ! 

Bell. Now to the Jew. 

Itha. Ha ! to the Jew, and send me money he were best. 

Pilia. What would'st thou do if he should send thee none ? 

Itha. Do nothing ; but I know what I know ; he's a 
murderer. 

1 On. 2 Familiar refrain in drinking-songs ; origin doubtful. 



94 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act IV. 

Bell. I had not thought he had been so brave a man. 

Itha. You knew Mathias and the governor's son ; he and 
I killed 'em both, and yet never touched 'em. 

Pilia. O, bravely done. 20 

Itha. I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns ; and he 
and I, snickle hand too fast/ strangled a friar. 

Bell. You two alone? 

Itha. We two ; and 'twas never known, nor never shall be 
for me. 

Pilia. {aside to Bell.). This shall with me unto the gov- 
ernor. 

Bell, {aside to Pilia.). And fit it should : but first let's ha' 
more gold, — 
Come, gentle Ithamore. 30 

Itha. Love me little, love me long.^ 

jEfiter Barabas, disguised as a French musician, with a lute, 
a?td a nosegay ifi his hat. 

Bell. A French musician ! come, let's hear your skill. 

Bar. Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, first. 

Itha. Wilt drink, Frenchman? here's to thee with a plague 
on this drunken hiccup ! 

Bar. Gramercy, monsieur. 

Bell Prythee, Pilia-Borsa, bid the fiddler give me the 
posy in his hat there. 

Pilia. Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy. 

Bar. A voire commandement, madame. 40 

^ A corrupt passage : snickle is a noose, or slip-knot ; commonly applied 
to the hangman's halter, and to snares for hares and rabbits. Cunningham 
suggests, " snickle hard and fast." 

2 This expression is found in Heywood's Proverbs, 1546. 



SCENE VI.] THE JEW OF MALTA. ge 

Bell. How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell ! 

Jtha. Like thy breath, sweetheart ; no violet like 'em. 

Pilia. Foh ! methinks they stink like a hollyhock. 

Ba7'. {aside). So, now I am revenged upon 'em all. 
The scent thereof was death ; I poisoned it. 

Itha. Play, fiddler, or I'll cut your cat's guts into chitter- 
lings. 

Bar. Pardotinez-inoi, be no in tune yet ; so now, now all 
be in. 

Itha. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine. 50 

Pilia. There's two crowns for thee ; play. 

Bar. {aside). How liberally the villain gives me mine own 
gold ! IPlays. 

Pilia. Methinks he fingers very well. 

Bar. {aside). So did you when you stole my gold. 

Pilia. How swift he runs ! 

Bar. {aside). You run swifter when you threw my gold 
out of my window. 

Bell. Musician, hast been in Malta long? 
• Bar. Two, three, four month, madame. 60 

Ifha. Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas? 

Bar. Very mush ; monsieur, you no be his man? 

Pilia. His man? 

Jtha. I scorn the peasant ; tell him so. 

Bar. {aside). He knows it already. 

Itha. 'Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon 
pickled grasshoppers and sauced mushrooms. 

Bar. {aside). What a slave's this? the governor feeds not 
as I do. 

Itha. He never put on clean shirt since he was circum- 
cised. 71 

Bar. {aside) . O rascal ! I change myself twice a day. 



96 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT V. 

Itha. The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder^ when 
he hanged himself. 

Bar. {aside) . 'Twas sent me as a present from the great 
Cham. 

Pilia. A musty slave he is ; — Whither now, fiddler? 

Bar. Pardo7t7iez-7noi, inonsieur, me be no well. 

Pilia. Farewell, fiddler ! (^jc//Barabas.) One letter more 
to the Jew. 80 

Bell. Prythee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp. 

liha. No, I'll send by word of mouth now — Bid him 
deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token, that the 
nuns loved rice, that Friar Barnardine slept in his own 
clothes ; any of 'em will do it. 

Pilia. Let me alone to urge it, now I know the meaning. 

Itha. The meaning has a meaning. Come, let's in : 
To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin. \_Exeunt. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — The Council-house. 
Enter Ferneze, Knights, Martin del Bosco, ^/z^Of^cers. 

Fern. Now, gentlemen, betake you to your arms. 
And see that Malta be well fortified ; 
And it behooves you to be resolute ; 
For Calymath, having hovered here so long. 
Will win the town, or die before the walls. 

1st Knight. And die he shall, for we will never yield. 

1 Judas is said to have hanged himself on an elder-tree. When at 
Jerusalem in 1887, I saw in the field of Aceldama a blighted fig-tree, not 
above fifty years old, on which the natives say Judas hanged himself. 



SCENE I.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 97 



Enter Bellamira and Pilia-Borsa. 

Bell. O, bring us to the governor. 

Fern. Away with her ! she is a courtesan. 

Bell. Whate'er I am, yet, governor, hear me speak ; 
I bring thee news by whom thy son was slain : 10 

Mathias did it not ; it was the Jew. 

Filia. Who, besides the slaughter of these gentlemen, 
Poisoned his own daughter and the nuns, 
Strangled a friar and I know not what 
Mischief besides. 

Ferti. Had we but proof of this 

Bell. Strong proof, my lord ; his man's now at my lodging. 
That was his agent ; he'll confess it all. 

Fern. Go fetch him straight {exeimt Officers). I always 
feared that Jew. 

Enter Officers with Barabas and Ithamore. 

Bar. I'll go alone ; dogs ! do not hale me thus. 20 

Itha. Nor me neither, I cannot outrun you, constable : — 
O my belly ! 

Bar. {aside). One dram of powder more had made all 
sure ; 
What a damned slave was I ! 

Fern. Make fires, heat irons, let the rack be fetched. 

1st Knight. Nay, stay, my lord ; 't may be he will confess. 

Bar. Confess ! what mean you, lords ? who should 
confess ? 

Fern. Thou and thy Turk ; 'twas you that slew my son. 

Itha. Guilty, my lord, I confess. Your son and Mathias 
were both contracted unto Abigail ; he forged a counterfeit 
challenge. 31 



98 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT V. 

Bar. Who carried that challenge? 

Itha. I carried it, I confess ; but who writ it ? Marry, 
evert he that strangled Barnardine, poisoned the nuns and 
his own daughter. 

Fern. Away with him ! his sight is death to me. 

Bar. For what, you men of Malta? hear me speak : 
She is a courtesan, and he a thief, 
And he my bondman. Let me have [the] law,^ 
For none of this can prejudice my life. 40 

Feim. Once more, away with him ; you shall have law. 

Bar. {aside). Devils, do your worst ! I'll live in spite of 
you. — 
As these have spoke, so be it to their souls ! — 
(^Aside) I hope the poisoned flowers will work anon. 

[Exeunt Officers with Barabas and Ithamore, 
Bellamira and Pilia-Borsa. 

^nter Katherine. 

Kath. Was my Mathias murdered by the Jew? 
I^erneze, 'twas thy son that murdered him. 

Fern. Be patient, gentle madam, it was he ; 
He forged the daring challenge made them fight. 

Kath. Where is the Jew? where is that murderer? 

Fern. In prison till the law has passed on him. 50 

Re-enter First Officer. 

1st Off. My lord, the courtesan and her man are dead : 
So is the Turk and Barabas the Jew. 
Fern. Dead ! 

1st Off. Dead, my lord, and here they bring his body. 
Bosco. This sudden death of his is very strange. 

1 The metre requires the insertion oithe. 



SCENE II.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 99 

Re-enter Officers carrying Barabas as dead. 

Fern. Wonder not at it, sir, the Heavens are just ; 
Their deaths were like their Hves, then think not of 'em. 
Since they are dead, let them be buried ; 
For the Jew's body, throw that o'er the walls. 
To be a pray for vultures and wild beasts. — 60 

So now away, and fortify the town. 

\_Exeu7it all, leaving Barabas on the floor. 

Scene II. — Outside the City Walls, 

Barabas discovered risiiig. 

Bar. What, all alone ? well fare, sleepy drink. 
I'll be revenged on this accursed town ; 
For by my means Calymath shall enter in. 
I'll help to slay their children and their wives. 
To fire the churches, pull their houses down, 
Take my goods too, and seize upon my lands. 
I hope to see the governor a slave, 
x\nd, rowing in a galley, whipt to death. 

Enter Calymath, Bassoes, and Turks. 

Caly. Whom have we here, a spy? 

Bar. Yes, my good lord, one that can spy a place 10 

Where you may enter and surprise the town : 
My name is Barabas : I am a Jew. 

Caly. Art thou that Jew whose goods we heard were sold 
For tribute-money ? 

Bar. The very same, my lord : 
And since that time they have hired a slave, my man, 
To accuse me of a thousand villainies ; 



lOO THE JEW OF MALTA. [act v. 

I was imprisoned, but 'scaped their hands. 

Caly. Did'st break prison? 

Bar. No, no ; 20 

I drank of poppy and cold mandrake juice : ^ 
And being asleep, belike they thought me dead, 
And threw me o'er the walls : so, or how else. 
The Jew is here, and rests at your command. 

Caly. 'Twas bravely done : but tell me, Barabas, 
Canst thou, as thou report'st, make Malta ours ? 

Ba7-. Fear not^ my lord, for here against the sluice, 
The rock is hollow, and of purpose digged, 
To make a passage for the running streams 
And common channels - of the city. 30 

Now, whilst you give assault unto the walls, 
I'll lead five hundred soldiers through the vault, 
And rise with them i' the middle of the town. 
Open the gates for you to enter in ; 
And by this means the city is your own. 

Caly. If this be true, I'll make thee governor. 

Bar, And if it not be true, then let me die. 

Caly. Thou'st doomed thyself. Assault it presently. 

\^Exeiint. 

_ Scene III. — A Square in the City. 

Alarums withiii. Enter Calymath, Bassoes, Turks, and 
Barabas, with Ferneze andYsXix^X-Si priso7iers. 

Caly. Now vail your pride, you captive Christians, 
And kneel for mercy to your conquering foe : 
Now where's the hope you had of haughty Spain? 

1 Cf. Othello, iii, 3: " not poppy, nor mandragora." Mandrake is a cor- 
ruption of 7nandragora. 

2 Kennels. — Dyce. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. lOl 

Ferneze, speak, had it not been much better 
T'have kept thy promise than be thus surprised? 

Fern. What should I say? We are captives and must 
yield. 

Caly. Ay, villains, you must yield, and under Turkish 
yokes 
Shall groaning bear the burden of our ire ; 
And, Barabas, as erst we promised thee, 
For thy desert we make thee governor ; lo 

Use them at thy discretion. 

Bar, Thanks, my lord. 

Fern. O fatal day, to fall into the hands 
Of such a traitor and unhallowed Jew ! 
What greater misery could Heaven inflict ? 

Caly. 'Tis our command : and Barabas, we give 
To guard thy person these our Janizaries : 
Entreat ^ them well, as we have used thee. 
i\nd now, brave bassoes, come, we'll walk about 
The ruined town, and see the wreck we made : — 20 

Farewell, brave Jew ; farewell, great Barabas ! 

Bar. May all good fortune follow Calymath ! 

\_Exeunt Calymath and Bassoes. 
And now, as entrance to our safety. 
To prison with the governor and these 
Captains, his consorts and confederates. 

Fern. O villain ! Heaven will be revenged on thee. 

\Exeunt Turks, with Ferneze and Knights. 

Bar. Away ! no more ; let him not trouble me.^ 
Thus hast thou gotten, by thy policy, 
No simple place, no small authority : 

1 Treat. 

2 The scene here is shifted to the governor's residence, inside the citadel. 



I02 THE JEW OF MALT.X. [act v. 

I now am governor of Malta ; true, — 30 

But Malta hates me, and, in hating me. 

My life's in danger, and what boots it thee. 

Poor Barabas, to be the governor, 

Whenas thy life shall be at their command ? 

No, Barabas, this must be looked into ; 

And since by wrong thou got'st authority, 

Maintain it bravely by firm policy. 

At least unprofitably lose it not : 

For he that liveth in authority, 

And neither gets him friends, nor fills his bags, 40 

Lives hke the ass, that ^sop speaketh of, 

That labours with a load of bread and wine. 

And leaves it off to snap on thistle-tops : 

But Barabas will be more circumspect. 

Begin betimes ; occasion's bald behind ; 

Shp not thine opportunity, for fear too late 

Thou seek'st for much, but canst not compass it. — 

Within here ! 

Enter Ferneze with a Guard. 

Fern. My lord ? 

Bar. Ay, " lord ; " thus slaves will learn. 50 

Now, governor ; — stand by there, wait within. 

\_Exeunt Guard. 
This is the reason that I sent for thee ; 
Thou seest thy life and Malta's happiness 
Are at my arbitrement ; and Barabas 
At his discretion may dispose of both ; 
Now tell me, governor, and plainly too, 
What think'st thou shall become of it and thee ? 

Fern. This, Barabas ; since things are in thy power. 



SCENE III.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 103 

I see no reason but of Malta's wreck, 

Nor hope of thee but extreme cruelty ; 60 

Nor fear I death, nor will I flatter thee. 

Ba?'. Governor, good words ; be not so furious. 
'Tis not thy life which can avail me aught ; 
Yet you do live, and live for me you shall : 
And, as for Malta's ruin, think you not 
'Tvvere slender policy for Barabas 
To dispossess himself of such a place ? 
For sith, as once you said, 'tis in this isle. 
In Malta here, that I have got my goods. 
And in this city still have had success, 70 

And now at length am grown your governor, 
Yourselves shall see it shall not be forgot : 
For, as a friend not known but in distress, 
I'll rear up Malta, now remediless. 

Fern. Will Barabas recover Malta's loss? 
Will Barabas be good to Christians? 

Bar. What wilt thou give me, governor, to procure 
A dissolution of the slavish bands 
Wherein the Turk hath yoked your land and you ? 
What will you give me if I render you 80 

The life of Calymath, surprise his men 
And in an outhouse of the city shut 
His soldiers, till I have consumed 'em all with fire ? 
What will you give him that procureth this ? 

Fern. Do but bring this to pass which thou pretendest. 
Deal truly with us as thou intimatest. 
And I will send amongst the citizens, 
And by my letters privately procure 
Great sums of money for thy recompense : 
Nay more, do this, and live thou governor still. 90 



I04 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT V. 

Bar. Nay, do thou this, Ferneze, and be free ; 
Governor, I enlarge thee ; Hve with me. 
Go walk about the city, see thy friends : 
Tush, send not letters to 'em, go thyself, 
And let me see what money thou canst make ; 
Here is my hand that I'll set Malta free : 
And thus we cast it : to a solemn feast 
I will invite young Selim Calymath, 
Where be thou present only to perform 
One stratagem that I'll impart to thee, loo 

Wherein no danger shall betide thy life, 
And I will warrant Malta free for ever. 

Fern. Here is my hand ; believe me, Barabas, 
I will be there, and do as thou desirest. 
When is the time ? 

Bar. Governor, presently : 
For Calymath, when he hath viewed the town. 
Will take his leave and sail towards Ottoman. 

Fei'n. Then will I, Barbaras, about this coin. 
And bring it with me to thee in the evening. no 

Bar. Do so, but fail not ; now farewell, Ferneze ! — 

\_Exit Ferneze. 
And thus far roundly goes the business : 
Thus loving neither, will I live with both, 
Making a profit of my policy ; 
And he from whom my most advantage comes 
Shall be my friend. 

This is the life we Jews are used to lead ; 
And reason too, for Christians do the like. 
Well, now about effecting this device ; 

First to surprise great Selim's soldiers, 120 

And then to make provision for the feast. 



SCENE IV.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 105 

That at one instant all things may be done : 

My policy detests prevention : 

To what event my secret purpose drives, 

I know ; and they shall witness with their lives. [^Exit. 

Scene IV. — Outside the City Walls. 
Ente7' Calymath and Bassoes. 

Caly. Thus have we viewed the city, seen the sack, 
And caused the ruins to be new-repaired, 
Which with our bombards' ^ shot and basiHsks 
We rent in sunder at our entry : 
And now I see the situation, 
And how secure this conquered island stands 
Environed with the Mediterranean Sea, 
Strong-countermined with other petty isles ; 
And, toward Calabria, backed by Sicily, 
(Where Syracusian Dionysius reigned,) 10 

Two lofty turrets that command the town ; 
I wonder how it could be conquered thus. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. From Barabas, Malta's governor, I bring 
A message unto mighty Calymath ; 
Hearing his sovereign was bound for sea, 
To sail to Turkey, to great Ottoman, 
He humbly would entreat your majesty 
To come and see his homely citadel. 
And banquet with him ere thou leav'st the isle. 

Caly. To banquet with him in his citadel? 20 

I fear me, messenger, to feast my train 

1 Large cannon. 



ro6 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act v. 

Within a town of war so lately pillaged, 
Will be too costly and too troublesome : 
Yet would I gladly visit Barabas, 
For well has Barabas deserved of us. 

Mess. Selim, for that, thus saith the governor, 
That he hath in his store a pearl so big. 
So precious, and withal so orient. 
As, be it valued but indifferently, 

The price thereof will serve to entertain 30 

Selim and all his soldiers for a month ; 
Therefore he humbly would entreat your highness 
Not to depart till he has feasted you. 

Caly. I cannot feast my men in Malta-walls, 
Except he place his tables in the streets. 

Mess. Know, Selim, that there is a monastery 
Which standeth as an outhouse to the town ; 
There will he banquet them ; but thee at home, 
With all thy bassoes and brave followers. 

Caly. Well, tell the governor we grant his suit, 40 

We'll in this summer evening feast with him. 

Mess. I shall, my lord. \^Exit. 

Caly. And now, bold bassoes, let us to our tents, 
And meditate how we may grace us best 
To solemnize our governor's great feast. [Exeunt 



Scene Y. — A Street. 
Enter Ferneze, Knights, and Martin del ^osco. 

Fern. In this, my countrymen, be ruled by me. 
Have special care that no man sally forth 
Till you shall hear a culverin discharged 



SCENE VI.] - THE JEW OF MALTA. TO 7 

By him that bears the hnstock/ kindled thus ; 
Then issue out and come to rescue me, 
For happily I shall be in distress, 
Or you released of this servitude. 

1st KnigJit. Rather than thus to live as Turkish thralls,^ 
What will we not adventure ? 

Fer7i. On then, begone. 10 

Knights. Farewell, grave governor ! 

[^Exeunt on one side Knights and Martin del 
Bosco ; 071 the other Ferneze. 

Scene VI. — A Hall in the Governor's Residence. 

Enter J above ^ Barabas, with a hammer, very busy ; and 
Carpenters. 

Bar. How stand the cords? How hang these hinges? 
fast? 
Are all the cranes and pulleys sure ? 
1st Carp. All fast. 

Bar. Leave nothing loose, all levelled to my mind. 
Why now I see that you have art indeed. 
There, carpenters, divide that gold amongst you : 

\_Gives money. 
Go swill in bowls of sack " and muscadine * ! 
Down to the cellar, taste of all my wines. 

1st Carp. We shall, my lord, and thank you. 

\_Exeunt Carpenters. 
Bar. And, if you like them, drink your fill and die : 10 
For so I live, perish may all the world ! 

1 The stick which held the gunner's match. 2 Slaves. 

3 A dry Spanish wine (Spanish seco, dry). 

4 A rich, fragrant wine ; written also muscatel and muscadel. 



Io8 THE JEW OF MALTA. [act v. 

Now Selim Calymath return me word 
That thou wilt come, and I am satisfied. 

Enter Messenger. 

Now, sirrah, what, will he come? 

Mess. He will ; and has commanded all his men 
To come ashore, and march through Malta streets. 
That thou mayest feast them in thy citadel. 

Bar. Then now are all things as my wish would have 'em, 
There wanteth nothing but the governor's pelf, 
And see, he brings it. 20 

Enter Ferneze. 

Now, governor, the sum, 

Eerii. With free consent, a hundred thousand pounds. 

Bar. Pounds say'st thou, governor? well, since it is no 
more, 
I'll satisfy myself with that; nay, keep it still. 
For if I keep not promise, trust not me. 
And, governor, now partake my policy : 
First, for his army ; they are sent before, 
Entered the monastery, and underneath 
In several places are field-pieces pitched, 
Bombards, whole barrels full of gunpowder 30 

That on the sudden shall dissever it. 
And batter all the stones about their ears, 
Whence none can possibly escape alive. 
Now as for Calymath and his consorts, 
Here have I made a dainty gallery, 
The floor whereof, this cable being cut, 
Doth fall asunder ; so that it doth sink 
Into a deep pit past recovery. 



SCENE VI.] THE JEW OF MALTA. 1 09 

Here, hold that knife {throws down a knife), and when 

thou seest he comes, 
And with his bassoes shall be blithely set, 40 

A warning-piece shall be shot off from the tower, 
To give thee knowledge when to cut the cord 
And fire the house : say, will not this be brave ? 

Fern. O excellent ! here, hold thee, Barabas, 
I trust thy word, take what I promised thee. 

Bar. No, governor, I'll satisfy thee first. 
Thou shalt not live in doubt of anything. 
Stand close, for here they come (Ferneze retires). Why, 

is not this 
A kingly kind of trade to purchase towns 
By treachery and sell 'em by deceit? 50 

Now tell me, worldlings, underneath the sun 
If greater falsehood ever has been done ? 

Enter Calymath and Bassoes. 

Caly. Come, my companion bassoes ; see, I pray, 
How busy Barabas is there above 
To entertain us in his gallery ; 
Let us salute him. Save thee, Barabas ! 

Bar. Welcome, great Calymath ! 

Fer7i. {aside) . How the slave jeers at him. 

Bar. Will't please thee, mighty Selim Calymath, 
To ascend our homely stairs? 60 

Ca/y. Ah, Barabas ; — 
Come, bassoes, ascend. 

Ferfi. {coming forward) . Stay, Calymath ! 
For I will show thee greater courtesy 
Than Barabas would have afforded thee. 



no THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT V. 

Knight {withiii). Sound a charge there ! 

[^ charge sounded within. Ferneze cuts the cord : 
the floor of the gallery gives way, and Barabas 
falls into a caldron. 

Efiter Martin del Bosco a7td Knights. 

Caly. How now ! what means this ? 

Bar. Help, help me ! Christians, help ! 

Fer7i. See, Calymath, this was devised for thee ! 

Caly. Treason ! treason ! bassoes, fly ! 70 

Fern. No, Selim, do not fly ; 
See his end first, and fly then if thou canst. 

Bar. O help me, Sehm ! help me. Christians ! 
Governor, why stand you all so pitiless? 

Fern. Should I in pity of thy plaints or thee, 
Accursed Barabas, base Jew, relent? 
No, thus I'll see thy treachery repaid. 
But wish thou hadst behaved thee otherwise. 

Bar. You will not help me, then ? 

Ferfz. No, villain, no. ^ 80 

Bar. And, villains, know you cannot help me now. — 
Then, Barabas, breathe forth thy latest hate, 
And in the fury of thy torments strive 
To end thy life with resolution. 
Know, governor, 'twas I that slew thy son ; 
I framed the challenge that did make them meet : 
Know, Calymath, I aimed thy overthrow, 
And had I but escaped this stratagem, 
I would have brought confusion on you all. 
Damned Christian dogs ! and Turkish infidels ! 90 

But now begins the extremity of heat 



SCENE VI.] THE JEW OF MALTA. Ill 

To pinch me with intolerable pangs : 

Die, life ! fly, soul ! tongue, curse thy fill, and die ! [^Dies. 

Caly. Tell me, you Christians, what doth this portend ? 

Fern. This train ^ he laid to have entrapped thy life ; 
Now, SeUm, note the unhallowed deeds of Jews : 
Thus he determined to have handled thee, 
But I have rather chose to save thy life. 

Caly. Was this the banquet he prepared for us ? 
Let's hence, lest further mischief be pretended.^ too 

Fer7i. Nay, Selim, stay ; for since we have thee here, 
We will not let thee part so suddenly : 
Besides, if we should let thee go, all's one, 
For with thy galleys could'st thou not get hence. 
Without fresh men to rig and furnish them. 

Caly. Tush, governor, take thou no care for that. 
My men are all aboard. 
And do attend my coming there by this. 

Fern. Why, heard'st thou not the trumpet sound a charge ? 

C^/)'. Yes, what of that? no 

Fern. Why then the house was fired. 
Blown up, and all thy soldiers massacred. 

Caly. O monstrous treason ! 

Fern. A Jew's courtesy : 
For he that did by treason work our fall. 
By treason hath delivered thee to us : 
Know, therefore, till thy father hath made good 
The ruins done to Malta and to us. 
Thou canst not part ; for Malta shall be freed. 
Or Selim ne'er return to Ottoman. 120 

Caly. Nay, rather. Christians, let me go to Turkey, 
In person there to meditate'' your peace ; 

1 Stratagem. 2 Intended. 3 Query, mediate. 



112 THE JEW OF MALTA. [ACT V. 

To keep me here will not advantage you. 

Fern. Content thee, Calymath, here thou must stay, 
And live in Malta prisoner ; for come all the world 
To rescue thee, so will we guard us now, 
As sooner shall they drink the ocean dry 
Than conquer Malta, or endanger us. 
So march away and let due praise be given 
Neither to Fate nor Fortune, but to Heaven. {Exeunt. 130 



11. 

THE ALCHEMIST. 

By Ben Jonson. 

Produced in 1610; dedicated to Lady Mary Wroth, niece of 
Sir Philip Sidney. 



THE ALCHEMIST/ 



TO THE READER. 

If thou beest more, thou art an understander, and then I trust thee. If 
thou art one that takest up, and but a pretender, beware of what hands 
thou receivest thy commodity; for thou wert never more fair in the way to 
be cozened than in this age, in poetry, especially in plays : wherein now 
the concupiscence of dances and of antics so reigneth, as to run away from 
Nature, and be afraid of her, is the only point of Art that tickles the specta- 
tors. But how out of purpose and place do I name Art ? When the 
professors are grown so obstinate contemners of it, and presumers on their 
own naturals, as they are deriders of all diligence that way, and, by simple 
mocking at the terms, when they understand not the things, think to get off 
wittily with their ignorance. Nay, they are esteemed the more learned and 
sufficient for this, by the many, through their excellent vice of judgment. 
For they commend writers as they do fencers and wrestlers ; who, if they 
come in robustuously, and put for it with a great deal of violence, are 
received for the braver fellows : when many times their own rudeness is the 
cause of their disgrace, and a little touch of their adversary gives all that 
boisterous force the foil. I deny not but that these men, who always seek 
to do more than enough, may sometime happen on something that is good 
and great; but very seldom: and when it comes it doth not recompense 
the rest of their ill. It sticks out, perhaps, and is more eminent, because 
all is sordid and vile about it ; as lights are more discerned in a thick dark- 
ness than a faint shadow. I speak not this out of a hope to do good to any 
man against his will ; for I know, if it were put to the question of theirs 
and mine, the worse would find more suffrages : because the most favour 
common errors. But I give thee this warning, that there is a great differ- 
ence between those that, to gain the opinion of copy ,2 utter all they can, 
however unfitly ; and those that use election and a mean. For it is only 
the disease of the unskilful to think rude things greater than polished, or 
scattered more numerous than composed. 

1 In a few places in the text of this play I have adopted slight verbal alter- 
ations, suggested by Professor Henry Morley. 

2 Reputation of being fertile writers. 



Il6 THE ALCHEMIST. [PROLOGUE. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Subtle, the Alchemist. 

Face, the Housekeeper. 

DOL Common, their Colleague. 

Dapper, a Clerk. 

D RUGGER, a Tobacco Man. 

Lovewit, Master of the House. 

Sir Epicure Mammon, a Knight. 



Pertinax Surly, a Gamester. 
Tribulation Wholesome, a Pas- 
tor of Amsterdam. 
Ananias, a Deacon there. 
Kastril, the angry Boy. 
Dame Pliant, his Sister, a Widow. 
Neighbours, Officers, Mutes. 



Scene: London. 



ARGUMENT. 



T HE sickness ^ hot, a master quit, for fear, 
H is house in town, and left one servant there. 
E ase him corrupted, and gave means to know 

A cheater and his punk ^ ; who now brought low, 
L eaving their narrow practice, were become 
C ozeners at large ; and only wanting some 
H ouse to set up, with him they here contract, 
E each for a share, and all begin to act. 
M uch company they draw, and much abuse, 
I n casting figures,^ telling fortunes, news, 
S elling of flies,^ false putting of the stone, 
T ill it, and they, and all in fume are gone. 

PROLOGUE. 

Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours 

We wish away, both for your sakes and ours. 
Judging Spectators ; and desire, in place, 

1 Plague. 3 Astrological divination. 

2 Coarse woman. ^ Familiar spirits. 



SCENE!.] THE ALCHEMIST. II 7 

To the author justice, to ourselves but grace. 
Our scene is London, 'cause we would make known 

No country's mirth is better than our own : 
No clime breeds better matter, for your bore, 

Shark, squire, impostor, many persons more. 
Whose manners, now called humours, feed the stage ; 

And which have still been subject for the rage 10 

Or spleen of comic writers. Though this pen 

Did never aim to grieve, but better, men ; 
Howe'er the age he lives in doth endure 

The vices that she breeds, above their cure. 
But when the wholesome remedies are sweet, 

And in their working gain and profit meet. 
He hopes to find no spirit so much diseased 

But will with such fair c6rrectives be pleased : 
For here he doth not fear who can apply. 

If there be any that will sit so nigh 20 

Unto the stream, to look what it doth run. 

They shall find things they'd think or wish were done ; 
They are so natural follies, but so shown 

As even the doers may see, and yet not own. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — A Room in Lovewit's House. 

Enter Face, in a captain's uniform, with his sword drawn, 
and Subtle with a vial^ quarrelling, and followed by DoL 
Common. 

Face. Believe 't, I will. 

Sub. Thy worst. I spit at thee. 



Il8 THE ALCHEMIST. [act i. 

DoL Have you your wits ? Why, gentlemen, for love 

Face. Sirrah, I'll strip you 

DoL Nay, look ye, sovereign, general, are you madmen ? 

Sub. Oh, let the wild sheep loose. I'll gum your silks 
With good strong water, an you come. 

DoL W^ill you have 
The neighbours hear you ? will you betray all ? 
Hark ! I hear somebody. lo 

Face. Sirrah 

Sub. I shall mar 
All that the tailor has made, if you approach. 

Face. You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave, 
Dare you do this ? 

Sub. Yes, faith ; yes, faith. 

Face. Why, who 
Am I, my mongrel ? Who am I ? 

Sub. I'll tell you, 
Since you know not yourself. 20 

Face. Speak lower, rogue. 

Sub. Yes, you were once (time's not long past) the good, 
Honest, plain, livery three pound thrum that kept 
Your master's worship's house here in the Friars, 
For the vacations 

Face. Will you be so loud ? 

Sub. Since, by my means, translated suburb-captain. 

Face. By your means, doctor dog I 

Sub. Within man's memory, 
All this I speak of. 30 

Face. Why, I pray you, have I 
Been countenanced by you, or you by me ? 
Do but collect, sir, where I met you first. 

Sub. I do not hear well. 



SCENE!.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 19 

Face. Not of this, I think it. 
But I shall put you in mind, sir ; — at Pie-corner, 
Taking your meal of steam in from cooks' stalls, 
Where, like the father of hunger, you did walk 
Piteously costive, with your pinch'd horn-nose, 
And your complexion of the Roman wash, 40 

Stuck full of black and melancholic worms. 
Like powder corns shot at the artillery yard. 

Sub. I wish you could advance your voice a little.^ 

Face. When you went pinn'd up in the several rags 
You had raked and pick'd from dunghills, before day ; 
Your feet in mouldy sHppers, for your kibes " : 
A felt of rug,^ and a thin threaden cloak, 
That scarce would cover your no buttocks 

Sub. So, sir ! 

Face. When all your alchemy and your algebra, 50 

Your minerals, vegetals, and animals. 
Your conjuring, cozening, and your dozen of trades, 
Could not relieve your corps * with so much linen 
Would make you tinder, but to see a fire, 
I gave you countenance, credit for your coals. 
Your stills, your glasses, your materials ; 
Built you a furnace, drew you customers. 
Advanced all your black arts ; lent you, beside, 
A house to practise in 

Sub. Your master's house ! 60 

Face. Where you have studied the more thriving skill 
Of cozening since. 

Sub. Yes, in your master's house. 
You and the rats here kept possession. 

i.A play on the word voice, which is used here for reputation. 
2 Chilblains. 3 Hat of coarse woollen cloth. ^ Body. 



I20 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT I. 

Make it not strange. I know you were one could keep 

The buttery-hatch still lock'd, and save the chippings, 

Sell the dole beer^ to aquavitae men, 

The which, together with your Christmas vails ^ 

At post-and-pair,"^ your letting out of counters,* 

Made you a pretty stock, some twenty marks,^ 70 

And gave you credit to converse with cobwebs, 

Here, since your mistress' death hath broke up house. 

Face. You might talk softlier, rascal. 

Sub. No, you scarab, 
I'll thunder you in pieces : I will teach you 
How to beware to tempt a Fury again, 
That carries tempest in his hand and voice. 

Face. The place has made you valiant. 

Sub. No, your clothes. — 
Thou vermin, have I ta'en thee out of dung, 80 

So poor, so wretched, when no living thing 
Would keep thee company, but a spider, or worse ? 
Rais'd thee from brooms, and dust, and watering-pots, 
Sublimed thee, and exalted thee, and fix'd thee 
In the third region, call'd our state of grace? 
Wrought thee to spirit, to quintessence, with pains 
Would twice have won me the Philosopher's work ! 
Put thee in words and fashion, made thee fit 
For more than ordinary fellowships ? 

Giv'n thee thy oaths, thy quarrelling dimensions, 90 

Thy rules to cheat at horse-race, cockpit, cards, dice, 
Or whatever gallant tincture else ? 

1 Beer furnished to the poor, from a rich man's buttery. 

2 Perquisites. 3 a game at cards. 

4 The servant received a small fee for furnishing counters. 

5 A mark was worth 15J. 4^. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. I2i 

Made thee a second in mine own great art ? 
And have I this for thanks ! Do you rebel, 
Do you fly out in the projection?^ 
Would you be gone now ? 

Dol. Gentlemen, what mean you? 
Will you mar all ? 

Sub. Slave, thou hadst no name 

Dol. Will you undo yourselves with civil war? loo 

Sub. Never been known, past equi clibanuj?t, 
The heat of horse-dung, under ground, in cellars, 
Or an ale-house darker than deaf John's ; been lost 
To all mankind but laundresses and tapsters. 
Had not I been. 

Dol. Do you know who hears you, sovereign ? 

Face. Sirrah 

Dol. Nay, general, I thought you were civil. 

Face. I shall turn desperate if you grow thus loud. 

Stib. And hang thyself, I care not. no 

Face. Hang thee, collier, 
And all thy pots and pans, in picture, I will. 
Since thou hast moved me 

Dol. Oh, this will o'erthrow all. 

Face. Write thee up bawd in Paul's, have all thy tricks. 
Of cozening with a hollow coal, dust, scrapings, 
Searching for things lost, with a sieve and shears, 
Erecting figures in your rows of houses,^ 
And taking in of shadows with a glass,^ 
Told in red letters ; and a face cut for thee 120 



1 That is, fail at the last moment, when success is at hand. 

2 Each house, in astrology, corresponded to one of the twelve signs of the 
zodiac. 

3 Method of divination. 



122 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT I. 

Worse than Gamaliel Ratsey's.^ 

Dol. Are you sound? 
Have you your senses, masters ? 

Face. I will have 
A book, but barely reckoning thy impostures, 
Shall prove a true philosopher's stone to printers. 

Sub. Away, you trencher-rascal ! 

Face. Out, you dog-leach ! 
The vomit of all prisons 

Dol. Will you be 130 

Your own destructions, gentlemen? 

Face. Still spewed out 
For lying too heavy on the basket.^ 

Sub. Cheater ! 

Face. Bawd ! 

Sub. Cowherd ! 

Face. Conjurer ! 

Sub. Cut-purse ! 

Face. Witch ! 

Dol. O me ! 140 

We are ruin'd, lost ! Have you no more regard 
To your reputations? Where's your judgment? 'Slight, 
Have yet some care of me, of your republic 

Face. Away this brach^ ! I'll bring thee, rogue, within 
The statute of sorcery, tricesimo tertio 
Of Harry the Eighth : ay, and perhaps thy neck 
Within a noose, for laundring gold and barbing it.* 

Dol. {^snatches Face's sword). You'll bring your head 
within a cockscomb, will you ? 

1 A noted highwayman, executed at Bedford. 

2 For eating more than your share of the broken victuals sent in a basket 
to prisoners. 

3 Hunting-dog. •* Rolling and clipping gold. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 23 

And you, sir, with your menstrue.^ {Dashes Subtle's vial out 

of his hand.) Gather it up. — 
'Sdeath, you abominable pair of stinkards/ 150 

Leave off your barking, and grow one again, 
Or, by the Hght that shines, I'll cut your throats. 
I'll not be made a prey unto the marshal 
For ne'er a snarling dog-bolt of you both. 
Have you together cozen'd all this while, 
And all the world, and shall it now be said 
You've made most courteous shift to cozen yourselves? 
You will accuse him ! you will bring hi?n in \_To Face. 

Within the statute? Who shall take your word ? 
A rascal, upstart, apocryphal captain, 160 

Whom not a Puritan in Blackfriars ^ will trust 
So much as for a feather : and you, too, [ To Subtle. 

Will give the cause, ^orsooth ! vou will insult, 
And claim a primacy in the divisions ! 
You must be chief ! as if you only had 
The powder to project '^ with, and the work 
Were not begun out of equality? 
The venture tripartite ? all things in common ? 
Without priority? 'Sdeath ! you perpetual curs. 
Fall to your couples again, and cozen kindly, 170 

And heartily, and lovingly, as you should, 
And lose not the beginning of a term. 
Or, by this hand, I shall grow factious too, 

1 The fluid in which alchemists dissolved solid substances. 

2 Mean fellows. 

3 The Puritans, — the term was first current about 1564, — who are so 
cleverly ridiculed in this play, dwelt in the Blackfriars district in London ; 
they dealt largely in feathers. 

4 The last, twelfth, process in alchemy, when the base metal was to be 
turned into gold. 



124 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT I. 

And take my part, and quit you. 

Face. 'Tis his fault ; 
He ever murmurs, and objects his pains. 
And says, the weight of all lies upon him. 

Sub. Why so it does. 

Dol. How does it ? Do not we 
Sustain our parts ? i8o 

Sub. Yes, but they are not equal. 

Dol. Why, if your part exceed to-day, I hope 
Ours may to-morrow match it. 

Sub. Ay, they may. 

Dol. May, murmuring mastiff ! Ay, and do. Death on me ! 
Help me to throttle him. \_Seizes Sub. by the throat. 

Sub. Dorothy ! Mistress Dorothy ! 
'Ods precious, -I'll do anything. What do you mean? 

DoL Because o' your fermentation and cibation^? 

Sub. Not I, by heaven 190 

Dol. Your Sol and Luna'-' Help me. \To Face. 

Sub. Would I were hang'd then ! I'll conform myself. 

Dol. Will you, sir ? Do so then, and quickly : swear. 

Sub. What should I swear ? 

Dol. To leave your faction, sir, 
And labour kindly in the common work. 

Sub. Let me not breathe if I meant aught beside. 

1 The sixth and seventh processes ; cibation was the feeding of the matter 
in preparation with fresh substances ; also, supplying what had been wasted 
by evaporation, 

2 The metals used by alchemists are thus enumerated by Chaucer, in 
The Yeoman's Tale : 

"The bodies seven, lo! here hem anone, 
So/ gold is, and Luna silver we threpe, 
Mars yron. Mercury quicksilver we clepe, 
Saturnus leade, and Jitpiter is tinne. 
And Venus copir." 



THE ALCHEMIST. 



125 



I only used those speeches as a spur 
To him. 

Dol I hope we need no spurs, sir. Do we? 200 

Face. 'Shd, prove to-day who shall shark best. 

Sub. Agreed. 

Dol. Yes, and work close and friendly. 

Sub. 'Slight, the knot 
Shall grow the stronger for this breach, with me. 

[ They shake hands, 

Dol. Why, so, my good baboons ! Shall we go make 
A sort of sober, scurvy, precise neighbours, 
That scarce have smiled twice since the king came in, 
A feast of laughter at our follies ? Rascals 
Would run themselves from breath to see me ride, 210 

Or you t' have but a hole to thrust your heads in. 
For which you should pay ear-rent ? ^ No, agree. 
And may don Provost ride a feasting long 
In his old velvet jerkin and stain'd scarfs. 
My noble sovereign and worthy general. 
Ere we contribute a new crewel garter 
To his most worsted worship.^ 

Sub. Royal Dol r 
Spoken like Claridiana,^ and thyself. 

Face. For which at supper thou shalt sit in triumph, 220 
And not be styled Dol Common, but Dol Proper, 
Dol Singular : the longest cut at night 
Shall draw thee for his Doll Particular. \^Bell i-ings without. 

Sub. Who's that? One rings. To the window, Dol. 
i^Exit Dol.) Pray heaven 

1 Refers to the pillory. 

2 This punning on crewel and worsted was probably venerable even in 
Jonson's time. 

3 Heroine in The Mirror of Knighthood. 



126 THE ALCHEMIST. [act I. 

The master do not trouble us this quarter. 

Face. Oh, fear not him. While there dies one a week 
O' the plague, he's safe from thinking toward London : 
Beside, he's busy at his hop-yards now ; 
I had a letter from him. If he do. 

He'll send such word for airing of the house 230 

As you shall have sufficient time to quit it : 
Though we break up a fortnight 'tis no matter. 

Re-enter DoL. 

Sub. Who is it, Dol? 

Dol. A fine young quodling.^ 

Face. Oh, 
My lawyer's clerk I lighted on last night 
In Holborn, at the Dagger.^ He would have 
(I told you of him) a familiar,^ 
To rifle with at horses, and win cups. 

Dol. Oh, let him in. 240 

Sub. Stay. Who shall do't? 

Face. Get you 
Your robes on : I will meet him as going out. 

Dol. And what shall I do ? 

Face. Not be seen ; away ! \_Exit Dol. 

Seem you very reserv'd. ^ 

Sub. Enough. \_Exit. 

Face, {aloud and retiring) . God be wi' you, sir. 
I pray you, let him know that I was here : 
His name is Dapper. I would gladly have staid, but 250 

Dap. {within). Captain, I am here. 

Face. Who's that? — He's come, I think, doctor. 

1 Slang ; " young quill-driver." 2 a low gambling-hell. 

3 A spirit who waited upon magicians. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 



127 



Enter Dapper. 

Good faith, sir, I was going away. 

Dap. In truth, 
I am very sorry, captain. 

Face. But I thought 
Sure I should meet you. 

Dap. Ay, I am very glad. 
I had a scurvy writ or two to make, 

And I had lent my watch ^ last night to one 260 

That dines to-day at the sheriffs, and so was robb'd 
Of my pastime. 

Re-enter Subtle, in his velvet cap atid gown. 
Is this the cunning-man? 

Face, This is his worship. 

Dap. Is he a doctor? 

Face. Yes. 

Dop. And you have broke with him, captain? 

Face. Ay. 

Dap. And how? 

Face. Faith, he does make the matter, sir, so dainty 270 
I know not what to say. 

Dap. Not so, good captain. 

Face. Would I were fairly rid of it, believe rae. 

Dap. Nay, now you grieve me, sir. Why should you wish 
so? I dare assure you, I'll not be ungrateful. 

Face. I cannot think you will, sir. But the law 
Is such a thing — and then he says. Read's matter^ 
Falling so lately — 

1 Watches were dear and scarce : Dapper pretends to a luxury above his 
condition. 

2 Simon Read, convicted of practising the black art, had been recently 
pardoned by James I. 



128 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT I. 

Dap. Read ! he was an ass, 
And dealt, sir, with a fool. 280 

Face. It was a clerk, sir. 

Dap. A clerk ! 

Face. Nay, hear me, sir, you know the law 
Better, I think 

Dap. I should, sir, and the danger : 
You know, I showed the statute to you. 

Face. You did so. 

Dap. And will I tell then ! By this hand of flesh, 
Would it might never write good court-hand more. 
If I discover. What do you think of me, 290 

That I am a chiaus ^ ? 

Face. What's that? 

Dap. The Turk was here. 
As one would say, do you think I am a Turk ? 

Face. I'll tell the doctor so. 

Dap. Do, good sweet captain. 

Face. Come, noble doctor, pray thee, let's prevail ; 
This is the gentleman, and he's no chiaus. 

Sub. Captain, I have return'd you all my answer. 
I would do much, sir, for your love ; but this 300 

I neither may nor can. 

Face. Tut, do not say so. 
You deal now with a noble fellow, doctor. 
One that will thank you richly, and he is no chiaus. 
Let that, sir, move you. 

Sub. Pray you, forbear 

Face. He has 

1 A cheat. A Turkish chiaus, or interpreter, defrauded, in 1609, some 
Turkish merchants in England out of ;^400o : the fraud was famous at the 
time. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 29 

Four angels here.^ 

Sud. You do me wrong, good sir. 

Face. Doctor, wherein ? to tempt you with these spirits ? 

Sub. To tempt my art and love, sir, to my peril. 311 

'Fore heaven, I scarce can think you are my friend. 
That so would draw me to apparent danger. 

Face. I draw you ! A horse draw you, and a halter, 
You, and your flies together 

Dap. Nay, good captain. 

Face. That know no difference of men. 

Sub. Good words, sir. 

Face. Good deeds, sir. Dr. Dogs-meat. 'Slight, I bring you 
No cheating Glim o' the Cloughs,^ or Claribels, 320 

That look as big as five-and-fifty, and flush ^j 
And spit out secrets like hot custard 

Dap. Gaptain ! 

Face. Nor any melancholic under-scribe. 
Shall tell the vicar, but a special gentle. 
That is the heir to forty marks a year, 
Gonsorts with the small poets of the time. 
Is the sole hope of his old grandmother ; 
That knows the law, and writes you six fair hands. 
Is a fine clerk, and has his cyphering perfect, 330 

Will take his oath o' the Greek Testament, 
If need be, in his pocket ; and can court 
His mistress out of Ovid. 

Dap. Nay, dear captain 

Face. Did you not tell me so ? 

Dap. Yes ; but I'd have you 

1 English gold coin, worth ten shillings. 

2 A North-country archer, often mentioned in the Robin Hood ballads. 

3 The highest counts at primero, a game of cards. 



I-O THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT i. 

Use Master Doctor with some more respect. 

Face. Hang him, proud stag, with his broad velvet 

head ! 

But for your sake I'd choke ere I would change 

An article of breath with such a puckfist ^ : 340 

Come, let's be gone. \_Going. 

Sub. Pray you, let me speak with you. 

JDap. His worship calls you, captain. 

Face. I am sorry 
I e'er embark'd myself in such a business. 

Dap. Nay, good sir ; he did call you. 

Face. Will he take then? 

Sub. First, hear me 

Face. Not a syllable, 'less you take. 

Sub. Pray you, sir 350 

Face. Upon no terms, but an assumpsit.'^ 

Sub. Your humour must be law. 

\_IIe takes the four angels. 

Face. Why, now, sir, talk. 
Now I dare hear you with mine honour. Speak. 
So may this gentleman too. 

Sub. Why, sir [ Offering to whisper Face. 

Face. No whispering. 

Sub. 'Fore heaven, you do not apprehend the loss 
You do yourself in this. 

Face. Wherein ? for what ? 360 

Sub. Marry, to be so importunate for one 
That when he has it, will undo you all ; 
He'll win up all the money in the town. 

i Puff-ball, term of reproach. 

2 A voluntary promise, by word of mouth, to perform or pay anything to 
another. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. I3I 

Face. How ! 

Sub. Yes, and blow up gamester after gamester, 
As they do crackers in a puppet play. 
If I do give him a familiar, 
Give you him all you play for ; never set him : ^ 
For he will have it. 

Face. You are mistaken, doctor. 370 

Why, he does ask one but for cups and horses 
A rifling fly ; none of your great famihars. 

Dap. Yes, captain, I would have it for all games. 

Sub. I told you so. 

Face, (^taking Dap. aside). 'Shght, that is a new business ! 
I understood you, a tame bird, to fly 
Twice in a term, or so, on Friday nights, 
When you had left the office, for a nag 
Of forty or fifty shillings. 

Dap. Ay, 'tis true, sir ; 380 

But I do think now I shall leave the law, 
And therefore 

Face. Why, this changes quite the case. 
Do you think that I dare move him ? 

Dap. If you please, sir ; 
All's one to him, I see. 

Face. What ! for that money? 
I cannot with my conscience ; nor should you 
Make the request, methinks. 

Dap. No, sir ; I mean 390 

To add consideration. 

Face. Why, then, sir, 
I'll try. {^Goes to Subtle.) Say that it were for all games, 
doctor? 

1 Gamble with, lay a stake. 



132 THE ALCHEMIST. [act I. 

Sub, I say then, not a mouth shall eat for him 
At any ordinary, but on the score, 
That is a gaming mouth, conceive me. 

Face. Indeed ! 

Sub. He'll draw you all the treasure of the realm. 
If it be set him. 

Face. Speak you this from art? 400 

Sub. Ay, sir, and reason too, the ground of art. 
He is of the only best complexion 
The Queen of Fairy loves. 

Face. What ! Is he ? 

Sub. Peace. 
He'll overhear you. Sir, should she but see him 

Face. What? 

Sub. Do not you tell him. 

Face. Will he win at cards too ? 

Sub. The spirits of dead Holland, living Isaac,^ 410 

You'd swear were in him ; such a vigorous luck 
As cannot be resisted. 'Slight, he'll put 
Six of your gallants to a cloke, indeed,^ 

Face. A strange success, that some man shall be bom to. 

Sub. He hears you, man 

Dap. Sir, I'll not be ungrateful. 

Face. Faith, I have confidence in his good nature : 
You hear, he says he will not be ungrateful. 

Sub. Why, as you please ; my venture follows yours. 

Face. Troth, do it, doctor; think him trusty, and make 
him. 420 

He may make us both happy in a hour ; 
Win some five thousand pound, and send us two on't. 

Dap. Believe it, and I will, sir. 

1 Two adepts in alchemy at that period. 2 Strip them. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. I33 

Face. And you shall, sir. \Takes him aside. 

You have heard all? 

Dap. No, what was't? Nothing, I, sir. 

Face. Nothing ! 

Dap. A little, sir. 

Face. Well, a rare star 
Reigned at your birth. . 430 

Dap. At mine, sir ! No. 

Face. The doctor 
Swears that you are 

Sub. Nay, captain, you'll tell all now. 

Face. Allied to the Queen of Fairy. 

Dap. Who ? that I am ? 
Believe it no such matter 

Face. Yes, and that 
You were were born with a caul on your head.* 

Dap. Who says so? 440 

Face. Come, 
You know it well enough, though you dissemble it. 

Dap. I' fac, I do not : you are mistaken. 

Face. How ! 
Swear by your fac?^ And in a thing so known 
Unto the doctor? How shall we, sir, trust you 
In the other matter? can we ever think. 
When you have won five or six thousand pound, 
You'll send us shares in't, by this rate ? 

Dap. By Jove, sir, 450 

I'll win ten thousand pound, and send you half. 
I' fac's no oath. 

Sub. No, no; he did but jest. 

1 The superstitious regarded this as a good omen, conferring power of 
second sight. 

2 A hit at the Puritans, who avoided oaths. 



134 THE ALCHEMIST. [act I. 

Face. Go to. Go thank the doctor : he's your friend, 
To take it so. 

Dap. I thank his worship. 

Face. So ! 
Another angel. 

Dap. Must I? 

Face. Must you ! 'Shght, 460 

What else is thanks ? Will you be trivial ? — Doctor, 

[Dapper ^/z^^j him the money. 
When must he come for his familiar? 

Dap. Shall I not have it with me ? 

Sub. Oh, good sir ! 
There must a world of ceremonies pass ; 
You must be bath'd and fumigated first : 
Besides, the Queen of Fairy does not rise 
Till it be noon. 

Face. Not, if she danced, to-night. 

Sub. And she must bless it 47c 

Face. Did you never see 
Her royal grace yet? 

Dap. Whom? 

Face. Your aunt of Fairy ? 

Sub. Not since she kissed him in the cradle, captain ; 
I can resolve you that. 

Face. Well, see her grace, 
Whate'er it cost you, for a thing that I know. 
It will be somewhat hard to compass ; but 
However, see her. You are made, believe it, 480 

If you can see her. Her grace is a lone woman, 
And very rich ; and if she take a fancy. 
She will do strange things. See her at any hand. 
'Slid, she may hap to leave you all she has : 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 135 

It is the doctor's fear. 

Dap. How will't be done, then ? 

Face. Let me alone, take you no thought. Do you 
But say to me, Captain, I'll see her grace. 

Dap. Captain, I'll see her grace. 

Face. Enough. \_Knocki71g within. 490 

Sub. Who's there ? 
Anon. {Aside to Face.) Conduct him forth by the back way. 
Sir, against one o'clock prepare yourself. 
Till when you must be fasting ; only take 
Three drops of vinegar in at your nose. 
Two at your mouth, and one at either ear ; 
Then bathe your fingers' ends and wash your eyes, 
To sharpen your five senses, and cry Jmm 
Thrice, and then biiz^ as often ; and then come. \_Exif. 

Face. Can you remember this ? 500 

Dap. I warrant you. 

Face. Well then away. It is but your bestowing 
Some twenty nobles ^ 'mong her grace's servants, 
And put on a clean shirt : you do not know 
What grace her grace may do you in clean linen.'' 

\_Exeunf Face and Dapper. 

Sub. (within). Come in ! Good wives, I pray you forbear 
me now ; 
Troth I can do you no good till afternoon. 

Re-enters, followed by Drugger. 

What is your name, say you — Abel Drugger ? 
Drug. Yes, sir. 
Stib. A seller of tobacco ^ ? 510 

1 Words used in incantations. 

2 A noble was worth 6^. ^d. 3 xhe fairies insisted on cleanliness. 
4 Tobacco was introduced into England in 1586. 



136 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT i. 

Drug. Yes, sir. 

Sub. Umph ! 
Free of the grocers ^ ? 

Drug. Ay, an't please you. 

Sub. Well 

Your business, Abel? 

Drug. This, an't please your worship ; 
I am a young beginner, and am building 
Of a new shop, an't like your worship, just 
At corner of a street : — Here is the plot ^ on't — 520 

And I would know by art, sir, of your worship, 
Which way I should make my door, by necromancy, 
And where my shelves : and which should be for boxes, 
And which for pots. I would be glad to thrive, sir : 
And I was wish'd^ to your worship by a gentleman. 
One Captain Face, that says you know men's planets, 
And their good angels, and their bad. 

Sub. I do. 
If I do see them 

Re-enter Face. 

Face. What ! my honest Abel ? 530 

Thou art well met here. 

Drug. Troth, sir, I was speaking. 
Just as your worship came here, of your worship : 
I pray you, speak for me to Master Doctor. 

Face. He shall do anything. — Doctor, do you hear ? 
This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow ; 
He lets me have good tobacco, and he does not 
Sophisticate it with sack-lees or oil. 
Nor washes it in muscadel and grains, 

1 Belonging to the grocers' guild. 2 plan. ^ Recommended. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 137 

Nor buries it in gravel underground, 540 

Wrapp'd up in greasy leather or sour clouts ; 

But keeps it in fine lily pots, that, open'd, 

Smell like conserve of roses or French beans. 

He has his maple block, his silver tongs, 

Winchester pipes, and fire of juniper : ^ 

A neat, spruce, honest fellow, and no goldsmith.^ 

Sub. He is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on. 

Face. Already, sir, have you found it ? Lo thee, Abel ! 

Sitb. And in right way toward riches 

Face. Sir ! 550 

Sub. This summer 
He will be of the clothing of his company,^ 
And next spring call'd to the scarlet ; ^ spend what he can. 

Face. What, and so little beard ? 

Sub. Sir, you must think 
He may have a receipt to make hair come : 
But he'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for't ; 
His fortune looks for him another way. 

Face. 'Slid, doctor, how canst thou know this so soon ? 
I am amused at that ! 560 

Sub. By a rule, captain, 
In metoposcopy,^ which I do work by : 
A certain star in the forehead, which you see not. 
Your chestnut or your olive-colour'd face 
Does never fail ; and your long ear doth promise. 
I knew't by certain spots, too, in his teeth. 
And on the nail of his mercurial finger. 

1 These were to be found in every well-appointed tobacconist's shop : 
the weed was shredded on the maple block; the tongs held the live coal, 
which was ol juniper, whose coals burned a long time. 

2 Usurer. 3 Livery of the grocers. 4 Be made sheriff, 
s Fortune-telling by examining the countenance. 



138 THE ALCHEMIST. [act i. 

Face. Which finger's that? 

Sub. His Httle finger. Look. 
You were born upon a Wednesday. 570 

Drug. Yes, indeed, sir. 

Sub. The thumb, in chiromancy, we give Venus ; 
The fore-finger to Jove ; the midst to Saturn ; 
The ring to Sol ; the least to Mercury, 
Who was the lord, sir, of his horoscope. 
His house of Ufe being Libra ; which fore-showed 
He should be a merchant, and should trade with balance. 

Face. Why, this is strange ! Is it not, honest Nab ? 

Sub. There is a ship now coming from Ormus 
That shall yield him such a commodity 580 

Of drugs. This is the west, and this the south ? 

\JPoi7iting to the plan. 

Drug. Yes, sir. 

Sub. And those are your two sides? 

Drug. Ay, sir. 

Sub. Make me your door, then, south ; your broad side, 
west : 
And on the east side of your shop, aloft. 
Write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat ; 
Upon the north part, Rael, Velel, Thiel. 
They are the names of those mercurial spirits 
That do fright flies ^ from boxes. 590 

Drug. Yes, sir. 

Sub. And 
Beneath your threshold bury me a loadstone 
To draw in gallants that wear spurs : the rest, 
They'll seem to follow. 

Face. That's a secret. Nab ! 

1 Familiar spirits. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 13c, 

Sub. And on your stall, a puppet/ with a vice 
And a court-fucus ^ to call city-dames : 
You shall deal much with minerals. 

Drug. Sir, I have 600 

At home, already 

Sud. Ay, I know you have arsenic, 
Vitriol, sal-tartar, argaile, alkali, 
Cinoper : I know all. — This fellow, captain, 
Will come, in time, to be a great distiller, 
And give assay — I will not say directly, 
But very fair — at the philosopher's stone. 

Face. Why, how now, Abel ! is this true ? 

Drug, {aside to Face). Good captain, 
What must I give ? 610 

Face. Nay, I'll not counsel thee. 
Thou hear'st what wealth — (he says, spend what thou 

canst) — 
Thou'rt like to come to. 

Drug. I would gi' him a crown. 

Face. A crown ! and toward such a fortune ? Heart, 
Thou shalt rather gi' him thy shop. No gold about thee ? 

Drug. Yes, I have a portague ^ I have kept this half-year. 

Face. Out on thee. Nab ! 'Slight, there was such an offer — 
Shalt keep't no longer, I'll give't him for thee. Doctor, 
Nab prays your worship to drink this, and swears 620 

He will appear more grateful as your skill 
Does raise him in the world. 

Drug. I would entreat 
Another favour of his worship. 

Face. What is't. Nab ? 

1 In the old morality plays a puppet was so dressed. 

2 Paint for the face. 3 a Portuguese gold coin worth ^1^3 12s. 



I40 THE ALCHEMIST. [act I. 

Drug. But to look over, sir, my almanac. 
And cross out my ill days, that I may neither 
Bargain nor trust upon them.^ 

Face. That he shall. Nab ; 
Leave it, it shall be done 'gainst afternoon. 630 

Sub. And a direction for his shelves. 

Face. Now, Nab, 
Art thou well pleased, Nab? 

Drug. 'Thank, sir, both your worships. 

Face. Away. — \^Exit Drugger. 

Why, now, you smoky persecutor of nature ! 
Now do you see that something's to be done 
Beside your beech- coal and your corsive waters, 
Your crosslets, crucibles, and cucurbites ' ? 
You must have stuff brought home to you, to work on : 640 
And yet you think I am at no expense 
In searching out these veins, then following them. 
Then trying them out. 'Fore God, my intelligence 
Costs me more money than my share oft comes to. 
In these rare works. 

Sub. You are pleasant, sir. 

Re-enter Dol. 

How now ! 
What says my Dainty Dolkin? 

Dol. Yonder fishwife 
Will not away. And there's your giantess, 
Come out of Lambeth. 650 

Sub. Heart, I cannot speak with them. 

Dol. Not afore night, I have told them in a voice. 

2 In the almanacs of that period were set down the days propitious and 
unpropitious for business. 

3 A gourd-shaped vessel for distilling. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 141 

Thorough the trunk, Uke one of your familiars. 
But I have spied Sir Epicure Mammon 

Sub, Where? 

Dol. Coming along, at far end of the lane, 
Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue 
To one that's with him. 

Sub. Face, go you, and shift. \_Exit Face. 

Dol, you must presently make ready too. 660 

Dol. Why, what's the matter? 

Sub. Oh, I did look for him 
With the sun's rising : marvel he could sleep ; 
This is the day I am to perfect for him 
The magisterium, our great work, the stone ; 
And yield it, made, into his hands : of which 
He has this month talk'd as he were possess'd. 
And now he's deaUng pieces on't away. — 
Methinks I see him entering ordinaries. 
Dispensing for the pox and plaguy houses, 670 

Reaching his dose, walking Moorfields for lepers, 
And offering citizens' wives pomander bracelets.^ 
As his preservative, made of the elixir ; 
Searching the spital, to make old bones young ; 
And the highways for beggars to make rich : 
I see no end of his labours. He will make 
Nature asham'd of her long sleep : when art. 
Who's but a step-dame, shall do more than she, 
In her best love to mankind, ever could : 
If his dream lasts, he'll turn the age to gold. [Exeunt. 680 

1 A ball, or small box, of perfumes was carried in the pocket, or worn on 
a girdle or bracelet {French, pomme d'ambre). 



142 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT II. 

ACT II. 

Scene I. — An Outer Roojn in \jd'WYN^\T'?> House. 
Enter Sir Epicure Mammon and Surly. 

Mam. Come on, sir. Now, you set your foot on shore 
In Novo Orbe; here's the rich Peru :• 
And there within, sir, are the golden mines, 
Great Solomon's Ophir ! he was sailing to't, 
Three years, but we have reached it in ten months. 
This is the day wherein, to all my friends, 
I will pronounce the happy word. Be rich ; 
This day you shall be spectatissimi.^ 
You shall no more deal with the hollow die 
Or the frail card.- No more be at charge of keeping lo 

The house of call for the young heir. No more 
Shall thirst of satin, or the covetous hunger 
Of velvet entrails for a rude-spun cloak,^ 
To be display'd at Madam Augusta's, make 
The sons of Sword and Hazard fall before 
The golden calf, and on their knees, whole nights, 
Commit idolatry with wine and trumpets : 
Or go a feasting, after drum and ensign. 
No more of this. You shall start up young viceroys, 
And unto thee I speak it first, Be rich. 20 

Where is my Subtle, there ? Within, ho ! 

Face {7mthin). Sir, he'll come to you by and by. 

Mam. That is his fire-drake, 

1 Most illustrious. 2 Used by dishonest gamblers. 

3 Cloaks of which the Hning was richer than the material. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 43 

His Lungs/ his Zephyrus, he that puffs his coals. 

Till he firk- nature up, in her own centre. 

You are not faithful, sir. This night I'll change 

All that is metal, in my house, to gold : 

And early in the morning will I send 

To all the plumbers and the pewterers. 

And buy their tin and lead up ; and to Lothbury* ;^o 

For all the copper. 

Sur. What, and turn that too? 

Mam. Yes, and I'll purchase Devonshire and Cornwall,* 
And make them perfect Indies ! You admire now? 

Sur. No, faith. 

Mam. But when you see th' effects of the Great Medicine, 
Of which one part projected on a hundred 
Of Mercury, or Venus, or the moon. 
Shall turn it to as many of the sun ; 

Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum : 40 

You will believe me. 

Sur. Yes, when I see't I will. 
But if my eyes do cozen me so, and I 
Giving them no occasion, sure I'll have 
A crow shall pluck them out next day. 

Mam. Ha ! why? 
Do you think I fable with you? I assure you. 
He that has once the flower of the sun. 
The perfect ruby, which we call elixir, 

1 The apprentice to an alchemist was called Lungs, because he blew the 
bellows. 

2 Stir, strike (Latin ferio). 

3 Stow, in his account of London (p, 287), says that Lothbury is " inhab- 
ited chiefly by founders, that cast candlesticks, chafing-dishes, spice mortars, 
and such-like copper works." 

4 That is, convert their minerals to gold. 



144 ' THE ALCHEMIST. [act ii. 

Not only can do that, but by its virtue 50 

Can confer honour, love, respect, long life ; 

Give safety, valour, yea, and victory. 

To whom he will. In eight and twenty days, 

I'll make an old man of fourscore a child. 

Sur. No doubt ; he's that already. 

Mam. Nay, I mean, 
Restore his years, renew him, like an eagle. 
To the fifth age ; make him get sons and daughters. 
Young giants ; as our philosophers have done. 
The ancient patriarchs, afore the flood, 60 

But taking, once a week, on a knife's point. 
The quantity of a grain of mustard of it ; 
Become stout Marses, and beget young Cupids. 

Sur. The decay'd vestals of Pickt-hatch^ would thank you. 
That keep the fire alive there. 

Mam. 'Tis the secret 
Of nature naturized^ 'gainst all infections. 
Cures all diseases coming of all causes ; 
A month's grief in a day, a year's in twelve ; 
And of what age soever, in a month : 70 

Past all the doses of your drugging doctors. 
I'll undertake, withal, to fright the plague^ 
Out of the kingdom in three months. 

Sur. And I'll 

1 A place of vile repute (in Trumbull Street, Cow Cross, Clerkenwell), 
where attacks of bullies made a pickt-hatch, or a half-door armed with 
spikes, a necessary defence. — R. G. White. Cf. Merry Wives of Windsor, 
ii, 2. 

2 The Schoolmen distinguished between Natura naturans, God the Crea- 
tor, and natura naturata, the universe created. 

3 There had been a severe plague in 1602, and the theatres had been 
closed. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 14^ 

Be bound, the pkiyers shall sing your praises then, 
Without their poets. 

Mam. Sir, I'll do't. Meantime, 
I'll give away so much unto my man 
Shall serve the whole city with preservative 
Weekly ; each house his dose, and at the rate 80 

Sur. As he that built the waterworks does with water? 

Mam. You are incredulous. 

Sur. Faith, I have a humour 
I would not willingly be gull'd. Your stone 
Cannot transmute me. 

Mam. Pertinax Surly, 
Will you believe antiquity? records? 
I'll show you a book where Mose" and his sister. 
And Solomon have written of the art ; ^ 
Ay, and a treatise penn'd by Adam 90 

Sur. How ! 

Mam. Of the philosopher's stone, and in Hi2jh Dutch. 

Sur. Did Adam write, sir, in High Dutch? 

Mam. He did ; " 
Which proves it was the primitive tongue. 

Sur. What paper? 

Mam. On cedar board. 

Sur. Oh, that indeed, they say 
Will last 'gainst worms. 

Mam. 'Tis like your Irish wood 100 

'Gainst cobwebs. I have a piece of Jason's fleece too, 
Which was no other than a book of alchemy. 
Writ in large sheepskin, a good fat ram-vellum. 

1 Bulmer constructed waterworks for London in 1595. 

2 Fabricius, in a work on writers on chemistry, included these. 

3 This absurdity was affirmed by Goropius Becanus. 



146 THE ALCHEMIST. [act II. 

Such was Pythagoras' thigh, Pandora's tub, 

And all that fable of Medea's charms. 

The manner of our work ; the bulls, our furnace, 

Still breathing fire ; our argent-vive, the dragon : 

The dragon's teeth, mercury sublimate. 

That keeps the whiteness, hardness, and the biting ; 

And they are gather'd into Jason's helm, no 

The alembic, and then sow'd in Mars his field. 

And thence sublimed so often, till they're fix'd. 

Both this, the Hesperian garden, Cadmus' story, 

Jove's shower, the boon of Midas, Argus' eyes, 

Boccace his Demogorgon, thousands more. 

All abstract riddles of our stone. — 

Enter Face as a Servant 

How now ! 
Do we succeed^ Is our day come? and holds it? 

Face. The evening will set red upon you, sir ; 
You have colour for it, crimson^ : the red ferment 
Has done his office ; three hours hence prepare you 120 

To see projection. 

Mam. Pertinax, my Surly, 
Again I say to thee aloud. Be rich. 
This day thou shalt have ingots ; and to-morrow 
Give lords th' affront.- — Is it, my Zephyrus, right? 
Blushes the bolt's head? 

Face. Aye. 

Majn. My only care is, 

1 Crimson was the color reached in the last stage before the base metal 
was projected. 

2 Meet, and look in the face. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEiMIST. I47 

Where to get stuff enough now to project on ; 

This town will not half serve me. 130 

Face. No, sir ! Buy 
The covering off o' churches. 

Mam. That's true. 

Face. Yes. 
Let them stand bare, as do their auditory ; 
Or cap them, new, with shingles. 

Mam. No, good thatch : 
Thatch will He light upon the rafters. Lungs. — • 
Lungs, I will manumit thee from the furnace. 
I will restore thee thy complexion. Puff, 140 

Lost in the embers ; and repair this brain, 
Hurt with the fume o' the metals. 

Face. I have blown, sir, 
Hard for your worship ; thrown by many a coal, 
When 'twas not beech ^ ; weigh 'd those I put in, just. 
To keep your heat still even ; these bleared eyes 
Have waked to read your several colours, sir, 
Of the pale citron, the green lion, the crow. 
The peacock's tail, the plumed swan.^ 

Mam. And, lastly, 150 

Thou hast descried the flower, the sanguis agni? 

Face. Yes, sir. 

Mam. Where's master? 

Face. At his prayers, sir, he ; 
Good man, he's doing his devotions 
For the success. 

Mam. Lungs, I will set a period 
To all thy labours ; thou shalt be the master 

1 Alchemists always used charcoal made from beechwood. 

2 Alchemists attributed peculiar virtues to these. 



148 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT ii. 

Of my seraglio. 

Face. Good, sir. 160 

Mam. For I do mean 
To have a list of wives and concubines 
Equal with Solomon, who had the stone 
Alike with me ; and I will make me a back 
With the elixir, tough as Hercules. 
Thou art sure thou saw'st it blood ? ^ 

Face. Both blood and spirit, sir. 

Mam. I will have all my beds blown up, not stuft : 
Down is too hard : and then, mine oval room 
Fill'd with such pictures as Tiberius took 170 

From Elephantis, and dull Aretine 
But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses 
Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse 
And multiply the figures, as I walk. 
My mists of perfume, vapoured 'bout the room, 
To lose ourselves in ; and my baths, like pits 
To fall into ; from whence we will come forth, 
And roll us dry in gossamer and roses. — 
Is it arrived at ruby?^ — Where I spy 

A wealthy citizen, or a rich lawyer, 180 

Have a sublimed pure wife, unto that fellow 
I'll send a thousand pound to make her mine. 

Face. And I shall carry it? 

Mai7i. No. I'll have no aids,^ 

1 The propitious color. 

2 " The judgment is perfectly overwhelmed by the torrent of images, 
words, and book-knowledge with which Mammon confounds and stuns his 
incredulous hearer. They come pouring out like the successive strokes of 
Nilus. They ' doubly redouble strokes upon the foe.' Description out- 
strides proof. We are made to believe effects before we have testimony for 
their causes, as a lively description of the joys of heaven sometimes passes 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 149 

But fathers and mothers ; they will do it best, 

Best of all others. And my flatterers 

Shall be the pure and gravest of divines 

That I can get for money. My mere fools, 

Eloquent burgesses ; and then my poets, 

The same that writ so subtly of foul wind, 190 

Whom I will entertain still for that subject. 

The few that would give out themselves to be 

Court and town rakes, and everywhere belie 

Ladies who are known most innocent for them, 

Those will I beg to make me eunuchs of; 

And they shall fan me with ten ostrich tails 

Apiece, made in a plume to gather wind. 

We will be brave, Puff, now we have the med'cine. 

My meat shall all come in in Indian shells, 

Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded 200 

With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths and rubies. 

The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels. 

Boiled in the spirit of Sol and dissolv'd pearl, 

Apicius' diet, 'gainst the epilepsy : 

And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,^ 

Headed with diamond and carbuncle. 

for an argument to prove the existence of such a place. If there be no one 
image which rises to the height of the sublime, yet the confluence and 
assemblage of them all produce an effect equal to the grandest poetry. 
Xerxes's army, that drank up whole rivers from their numbers, may stand 
for single Achilles. Epicure Mammon is the most determined offspring of 
the author. It has the whole ' matter and copy of the father, eye, nose, lip, 
and trick of his frown.' It is just such a sw«,ggerer as contemporaries have 
described Ben to be. Mammon is arrogant pretension personified. What 
a ' tow'ring bravery ' there is in his sensuality ! He affects no pleasure under 
a sultan. It is as if ' Egypt with Assyria strove in luxury.' " — Charles 
Lamb. 

1 Spoons then had rich ornaments set in them. 



150 THE ALCHEMIST. [act II. 

My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calvered^ salmons, 

Knots,^ godwits,^ lampreys : I myself will have 

The beards of barbels served instead of salads ; 

Oiled mushrooms, and the swelling unctuous paps 210 

Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off, 

Drest with an exquisite and poignant sauce ; 

For which I'll say unto my cook, There^ s gold : 

Go forth, and be a knight? 

Face. Sir, I'll go look 
A little how it heightens. \_Exit. 

Mam. Do. — My shirts 
I'll have of taffeta-sarsnet, soft and light 
As cobwebs ; and for all my other raiment. 
It shall be such as might provoke the Persian, 220 

Were he to teach the world riot anew. 
My gloves of fishes' and birds' skins, perfumed 
With gums of paradise and eastern air 

Sur, And do you think to have the stone with this? 

Mam. No, I do think t' have all this with the stone. 

Sur. Why, I have heard he must be homo frugi, 
A pious, holy, and religious man. 
One free from mortal sin, a very virgin. 

Mam. That makes it, sir ; he is so : but I buy it ; 
My venture brings it me. He, honest wretch, 230 

A notable, superstitious, good soul. 
Has worn his knees bare and his shppers bald 
With prayer and fasting for it : and, sir, let him 
Do it alone, for me, still. Here he comes. 

1 Cut in slices. See Walton's Complete Angler. 

2 These were birds of the snipe species. 

3 A hit at the recent creation of a large batch of knights by James I, at 
his accession to the throne in 1603. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 151 

Not a profane word afore him : 'tis poison, — 
Enter Subtle. 

Good-morrow, father. 

Sub. Gentle son, good-morrow. 
And to your friend there. What is he, is with you ? 

Mam. An heretic, that I did bring along, 
In hope, sir, to convert him. 240 

Sub. Son, I doubt 
You are covetous, that thus you meet your time 
In the just point : prevent your day at morning.^ 
This argues something worthy of a fear 
Of importune and carnal appetite. 
Take heed you do not cause the blessing leavp you, 
With your ungovern'd haste. I should be sorry 
To see my labours, now even at perfection, 
Got by long watching and large patience. 
Not prosper where my love and zeal hath placed them. 250 
Which (heaven I call to witness, with yourself, 
To whom I have poured my thoughts) in all my ends 
Have look'd no way but unto public good. 
To pious uses, and dear charity. 
Now grown a prodigy with men. Wherein 
If you, my son, should now prevaricate. 
And to your own particular lusts employ 
So great and catholic a bliss, be sure 
A curse will follow, yea, and overtake 
Your subtle and most secret ways. 260 

Mam. I know, sir ; 
You shall not need to fear me : I but come 
To have you confute this gentleman. 

1 Anticipate. 



152 THE ALCHEMIST. [act ii. 

Stir. Who is, 
Indeed, sir, somewhat costive of beUef 
Toward your stone ; would not be gulled. 

Sub. Well, son, 
All that I can convince him in is this, 
The WORK IS DONE, bright Sol is in his robe. 
We have a medicine of the triple soul, 270 

The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven. 
And make us worthy of it ! — ®Un Spiegel ! ^ 

Face {withiii). Anon, sir. 

Sub. Look well to the register. 
And let your heat still lessen by degrees. 
To the aludels.^ 

Face {within). Yes, sir. 

Sub. Did you look 
O' the bolt's head^ yet? 

Face {within). Which? On D, sir? 280 

Sub. Ay; 
What's the complexion? 

Face {within). Whitish. 

Sub. Infuse vinegar. 
To draw his volatile substance and his tincture : 
And let the water in glass E be filter'd. 
And put into the gripe's- egg.'' Lute him well. 
And leave him closed in balneo.^ 

Face {within). I will, sir. 

1 A notorious rogue, lived in Saxony about 1480. The words mean Owl 
Glass. 

2 Subliming pots without bottoms, fitted into each other without luting. 

3 A long-necked vessel, conical in shape. 

4 A vessel shaped hke a vulture's egg. 

5 Balneum means bath ; in alchemy, to heat a vessel by immersing it in 
hot water or sand. 



THE ALCHEMIST. 



53 



Sur. What a brave language here is ! Next to canting. 290 

SuIk I have another work, you never saw, son, 
That three days since passed the philosopher's wheel ^ 
In the lent ^ heat of Athanor, and's become 
Sulphur of Nature.^ 

Ma??i. But 'tis for me? 

Sub. What need you? 
You have enough in that is perfect. 

Ma7?i. Oh, but 

Si/b. Why, this is covetise ! 

Mam. No, I assure you, 300 

I shall employ it all in pious uses, 
Founding of colleges and grammar schools, 
Marrying young virgins, building hospitals, 
And now and then a church. 

Re-e7iter Face. 

Sub. How now ! 

Face. Sir, please you. 
Shall I not change the filter? 

Sub. Marry, yes ; 
And bring me the complexion of glass B. \_Exit Face. 

Mam. Have you another? 310 

Sub. Yes, son ; were I assured 
Your piety were firm, we would not want 
The means to glorify it ; but I hope the best. — 
I mean to tinct C in sand-heat to-morrow, 
And give him imbibition. 

Mam. Of white oil? 

1 To have passed this was a favorable sign. 

2 Slow. 3 Digesting furnace. 



154 THE ALCHEMIST. [act ii. 

Sub. No, sir, of red. F is come over to the helm too, ™ 
I thank my Maker, in St. Mary's bath,^ 
And shows lac virginis. Blessed be heaven ! 
I sent you of his faeces there calcined : 320 

Out of that calx I have won the salt of mercury. 

Mam. By pouring on your rectified water? 

Sud. Yes, and reverberating - in Athanor. 

Re-e7iter Face. 

How now ! what colour says it ? 

Face. The ground black, sir. 

Mam. That's your crow's head?^ 

Sur. Your cock's-comb's, is it not? 

Sub. No, 'tis not perfect. Would it were the crow ! 
That work wants something. 

Sur. Oh, I looked for this. 330 

The hay's ^ a pitching. 

Sub. Are you sure you loosed them 
In their own menstme ? 

Face. Yes, sir, and then married them. 
And put them in a bolt's-head nipp'd to digestion, 
According as you bade me when I set 
The liquor of Mars to circulation 
In the same heat. 

Sub. The process then was right. 

Face. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake, 340 

And what was saved was put into the pelican, 

1 Where one vessel was placed in another containing water. 

2 To heat, by beating back the flames from the top upon the material 
below. 

3 Another hopeful sign. 

4 A net for catching rabbits, by stretching it before their burrows. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 55 

And signed with Hermes' seal.^ 

Sid). I think 'twas so. 
We should have a new amalgama. 

Sur. (^aside). Oh, this ferret^ 
Is rank as any pole-cat. 

Sul?. But I care not : 
Let him e'en die ; we have enough beside, 
In embrion. H has his white shirt on. 

Face. Yes, sir, 350 

He's ripe for inceration, he stands warm 
In his ash-fire. I would not you should let 
Any die now, if I might counsel, sir, 
For luck's sake to the rest : it is not good. 

Mam. He says right. 

Sur. {aside). Ay, are you bolted?^ 

Face. Nay, I know't, sir, 
I have seen the ill fortune. What is some three ounces 
Of fresh materials ? 

Mam. Is't no more? 360 

Face. No more, sir. 
Of gold, t'amalgame with some six of mercury. 

Mam. Away, here's money. What will serve ? 

Face. Ask him, sir. 

Main. How much? 

Sub. Give him nine pound — you may give him ten. 

Sur. Yes, twenty, and be cozen'd — do. 

Main. There 'tis. \^Gives Face the money. 

Sub. This needs not ; but that you will have it so. 
To see conclusions of all ; for two 370 

1 Made by heating the neck of a vessel, and then twisting it. 

2 Face, having just come from working over the fire, has red eyes. 

3 Punning allusion to the rabbit-net axid ferret. 



156 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT ii. 

Of our inferior works are at fixation,^ 
A third is in ascension. Go your ways. 
Have you set the oil of luna in kemia? 

Face. Yes, sir. 

Sub. And the philosopher's vinegar? 

Face. Ay. \^Exit. 

Sur. We shall have a salad ! 

Mam. When do you make projection? 

Sub. Son, be not hasty, I exalt our med'cine, 
By hanging him in babieo vaporoso, 380 

And giving him solution ; then congeal him ; 
And then dissolve him ; then again congeal him : 
For look, how oft I iterate the work 
So many times I add unto his virtue. 
As, if at first one ounce convert a hundred. 
After his second loose, he'll turn a thousand; 
His third solution, ten ; his fourth, a hundred ; 
After his fifth, a thousand thousand ounces 
Of any imperfect metal, into pure 

Silver or gold, in all examinations, 390 

As good as any of the natural mine. 
Get you your stuff here against afternoon, 
Your brass, your pewter, and your andirons. 

Mam. Not those of iron? 

Sub. Yes, you may bring them too : 
We'll change all metals. 

Sur. I believe you in that. 

Mam. Then I may send my spits? 

Sub. Yes, and your racks. 

Sur. And dripping pans, and pot-hangers, and hooks, 400 
Shall he not ? 

1 In a non-volatile state. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 157 

Sub. If he please. 

Sur. — To be an ass. 

Sub. How, sir ! 

Ma?n. This gentleman you must bear withal : 
I told you he had no faith. 

Sur. And little hope, sir ; 
But much less charity, should I gull myself. 

Sub. Why, what have you observed, sir, in our art, 
Seems so impossible ? 410 

Su7'. But your whole work, no more. 
That you should hatch gold in a furnace, sir. 
As they do eggs in Egypt ! 

Sub. Sir, do you 
Believe that eggs are hatched so? 

Sur. If I should? 

Sub. Why, I think that the greater miracle. 
No Qgg but differs from a chicken more 
Than metals in themselves. 

Sur. That cannot be. 420 

The egg's ordained by nature to that end, 
And is a chicken in potentia. 

Sub. The same we say of lead and other metals, 
Which would be gold if they had time. 

Mam. And that 
Our art doth further. 

Sttb. Ay, for 'twere absurd 
To think that nature in the earth bred gold 
Perfect in the instant ; something went before. 
There must be remote matter. 430 

S7cr. Ay, what is that ? 

Sub. Marry, we say — 

Mam. Ay, now it heats : stand, father. 



158 THE ALCHEMIST. [act II. 

Pound him to dust. • 

Sul?. It is, of the one part, 
A humid exhalation, which we call 
Materia liquida, or the unctuous water ; 
On the other part, a certain crass and vicious 
Portion of earth ; both which, concorporate, 
Do make the elementary matter of gold ; 440 

Which is not yet propria materia, 
But common to all metals and all stones ; 
For, where it is forsaken of that moisture. 
And hath more dryness, it becomes a stone ; 
Where it retains more of the humid fatness, 
It turns to sulphur or to quicksilver. 
Who are the parents of all other metals. 
Nor can this remote matter suddenly 
Progress so from extreme unto extreme, 
As to grow gold, and leap o'er all the means. 450 

Nature doth first beget the imperfect, then 
Proceeds she to the perfect. Of that airy 
And oily water, mercury is engendered ; 
Sulphur of the fat and earthy part ; the one. 
Which is the last, supplying the place of male, 
The other of the female, in all metals. 
Some do believe hermaphrodeity. 
That both do act and suffer. But these two 
Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensive. 
And even in gold they are ; for we do find 460 

Seeds of them, by our fire, and gold in them ; 
And can produce the species of each metal 
More perfect thence, than Nature doth in earth. 
Beside, who doth not see in daily practice 
Art can beget bees, hornets, beetles, wasps, 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 159 

Out of the carcases and dung of creatures ; 
Yea, scorpions of an herb, being rightly placed ? 
And these are living creatures, far more perfect 
And excellent than metals. 

Matn. Well said, father ! 470 

Nay, if he take you in hand, sir, with an argument, 
He'll bray you in mortar. 

Siir. Pray you, sir, stay. 
Rather than I'll be bray'd, sir, I'll believe 
That Alchemy is a pretty kind of game. 
Somewhat like tricks o' the cards, to cheat a man 
With charming. 

Sub. Sir? 

Siir. What else are all your terms. 
Whereon no one of your writers 'grees with other? 480 

Of your elixir, your lac virginis, 
Your stone, your med'cine, and your chrysosperme. 
Your sal, your sulphur, and your mercury. 
Your oil of height, your tree of life, your blood. 
Your marchesite, your tutie, your magnesia, 
Your toad, your crow, your dragon, and your panther ; 
Your sun, your moon, your firmament, your adrop. 
Your lato, azoch, zernich, chibrit, heautarit. 
And then your red man and your white woman, 
With all your broths, your menstrues, and materials, 490 

Of lye and egg-shells, women's terms, man's blood. 
Hair o' the head, burnt clouts, chalk, merds, and clay. 
Powder of bones, scalings of iron, glass. 
And worlds of other strange ingredients, 
Would burst a man to name ? ^ 

1 It would be time wasted to rummage the old works on alchemy for an 
explanation of all these terms, which were doubtless as strange to the major- 



K 



l6o THE ALCHEMIST. [act ii. 

Sub. And all these named, 
Intending but one thing ; which art our writers 
Used to obscure their art. 

Mam. Sir, so I told him — 
Because the simple idiot should not learn it, 500 

And make it vulgar. 

Sub. Was not all the knowledge 
Of the Egyptians writ in mystic symbols ? 
Speak not the Scriptures oft in parables ? 
Are not the choicest fables of the poets, 
That were the fountains and first springs of wisdom, 
Wrapp'd in perplexed allegories ? 

Mam. I urged that, 
And cleared to him that Sisyphus was damned 
To roll the ceaseless stone, only because 510 

He would have made ours common. [Dol appears at the door. 

Who is this? 

Sub. 'Sprecious I — What do you mean ? Go in, good lady. 
Let me entreat you. (Dol retires.) Where's this varlet? 

Re-enter Face. 

Face. Sir. 

Sub. You very knave ! do you use me thus ? 

Face. Wherein, sir? 

Sub. Go in and see, you traitor. Go ! \_Exit Face. 

Mam. Who is it, sir? 

Sub. Nothing, sir; nothing. 

Mam. What's the matter, good sir? 520 

I have not seen you thus distemper'd : who is't? 

Sub. All arts have still had, sir, their adversaries. 
But ours the most ignorant. 

ity of play-goers in Jonson's time as they are to us ; the more common and 
important are explained in the course of the play. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. l6l 

Re-enter Face. 
What now? 

Face. 'Twas not my fault, sir ; she would speak with you. 

Sub. Would she, sir ! Follow me. \^Exit. 

Mam. {stopping him) . Stay, Lungs. 

Face. I dare not, sir. 

Mam. Stay, man; what is she? 

Face. A lord's sister, sir. 530 

Mam. How ! pray the'", stay. 

Face. She's mad, sir, and sent hither — 
He'll be mad too 

Mam. I warrant thee. 
Why sent hither? 

Face. Sir, to be cured. 

Sub. {within) . Why, rascal ! 

Face. Lo you ! — Here, sir ! \_Exit. 

Mam. 'Fore God, a Bradamante/ a brave piece. 

Sur. Heart, this is an evil house ! I will be burnt else. 540 

Mam. Oh, by this light, no ; do not wrong him. He's 
Too scrupulous that way : it is his vice. 
No, he's a rare physician, do him right, 
An excellent Paracelsian,^ and has done 
Strange cures with mineral physic. He deals all 
With spirits, he ; he will not hear a word 
Of Galen or his tedious recipes. 

Re-enter Face. 
How now, Lungs ! 

1 A Christian amazon, sister to Rinaldo, and mistress of Ruggiero, in 
Boiardo's Orlando^nnamorato , and Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. She pos- 
sessed an irresistible spear, which unhorsed all her antagonists. — 

Wheeler: Noted Names of Fiction. 

2 Paracelsus was born in 1493 and died in 1541. 



1 62 THE ALCHEMIST. [act II. 

Face. Softly, sir ; speak softly. I meant 
To have told your worship all. This must not hear. 550 

Mam. No, he will not be " gull'd " : let him alone. 

Face. You are very right, sir ; she is a most rare scholar, 
And is gone mad with studying Broughton's works.^ 
If you but name a word touching the Hebrew 
She falls into her fit, and will discourse 
So learnedly of genealogies, 
As you would run mad, too, to hear her, sir. 

Mam. How might one do t'have conference with her, 
Lungs ? 

Face. Oh, divers have run mad upon the conference : 
I do not know, sir. I am sent in haste 560 

To fetch a vial. 

Sur. Be not gull'd. Sir Mammon. 

Mam. Wherein ? Pray ye, be patient. 

Sur. Yes, as you are. 
And trust confederate knaves and sharks and bawds. 

Mam. You are too foul, beheve it. — Come here, Ulen, 
One word. 

Face. I dare not, in good faith. [ Going. 

Mam. Stay, knave. 

Face. He is extreme angry that you saw her, sir. 570 

Mam. Drink that {gives him money). What is she when 
she's out of her fit? 

Face. Oh, the most affablest creature, sir ! So merry ! 
Sd pleasant ! She'll mount you up like quicksilver 
Over the helm, and circulate like oil, 
A very vegetal ; discourse of state, 
Of mathematics, frolic, anything 

Mam. Is she no way accessible ? no means, 

1 A celebrated divine and Hebrew scholar in Elizabeth's time. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 63 

No trick to give a man a taste of her wit — 
Or so? 

Sub. (juithhi). Ulen ! 580 

Face. I'll come to you again, sir. [ExiL 

Mam. Surly, I did not think one of your breeding 
Would traduce personages of worth. 

Sur. Sir Epicure, 
Your friend to use ; yet still loth to be gulled : 
I do not like your philosophical bawds. 
Their stone is lechery enough to pay for 
Without this bait. 

Main. 'Heart, you abuse yourself. 
I know the lady, and her friends, and means, 590 

The original of this disaster. Her brother 
Has told me all. 

Sur. And yet you never saw her 
Till now ! 

Mam. Oh yes, but I forgot. I have, believe it, 
One of the treacherousest memories, I do think. 
Of all mankind. 

Sur. AVhat call you her brother ? 

Mam. My lord 

He will not have his name known, now I think on it. 600 

Sur. A very treacherous memory ! 

Main. On my faith — r- 

Sur. Tut, if you have it not about you, pass it 
Till we meet next. 

Mam. Nay, by this hand, 'tis true, 
He's one I honour, and my noble friend ; 
And I respect his house. 

Sur. Heart ! can it be 
That a grave sir, a rich, that has no need, 



1 64 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT II. 

A wise, sir, too, at other times, should thus, 6io 

With his own oaths and arguments, make hard means 

To gull himself? An this be your elixir. 

Your lapis mineralis and your lunary. 

Give me your honest trick yet at primero, 

Or gleek : ^ and take your luiiim sapieniis^ 

Your menstruum simplex! I'll have gold before you. 

And with less danger of the quicksilver 

Or the hot sulphur. 

Re-enter Face. 

Face. Here's one from Captain Face, sir {to Surly), 
Desires you meet him in the Temple Church 620 

Some half-hour hence, and upon earnest business. 
Sir — {whispers Mammon)^ if you please to quit us now, 

and come 
Again within two hours, you shall have 
My master busy examining o' the works ; 
And I will steal you in unto the party. 
That you may see her converse. Sir, shall I say 
You'll meet the captain's worship ? 

Sur. Sir, I will. [ Walks aside. 

But, by attorney and to a second purpose. 
Now, I am sure I understand this house ; 630 

I'll swear it, were the marshal here to thank me : 
The naming this commander doth confirm it. 
Don Face ! why he's the most authentic dealer 
In these commodities, the superintendent 
To all the quainter traffickers in town ! 
He is the visitor, and does appoint 
Who visits whom, and at what hour ; A^hat price ; 

1 A gam» of cards. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 165 

Which gown, and in what smock ; what falP ; what tire. 

Him will I prove, by a third person, to find 

The subtleties of this dark labyrinth : 640 

Which if I do discover, dear Sir Mammon, 

You'll give your poor friend leave, though no philosopher, 

To laugh : for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weep. 

Face. Sir, he does pray you'll not forget, 

Sur. I will not, sir. 
Sir Epicure, I shall leave you. \^Exit, 

Ma7?i. I follow you straight. 

Face. But do so, good sir, to avoid suspicion. 
This gentleman has a parlous ^ head. 

Mam. But wilt thou, Ulen, 650 

Be constant to thy promise? 

Face. As my life, sir. 

Mat?i. xA.nd wilt thou insinuate what I am, and praise me, 
And say I am a noble fellow ? 

Face. Oh, what else, sir? 
And that you'll make her royal with the stone, 
An empress : and yourself, King of Bantam. 

Mam. Wilt thou do this? 

Face. Will I, sir ! 

Mam. Lungs, my Lungs ! 660 

I love thee. 

Face. Send your stuff, sir, that my master 
May busy himself about projection. 

Mam. Thou hast witch'd me, rogue : take, go. 

[ Gives him money. 

Face. Your jack,^ and all, sir. 

Mam. Thou art a villain — I will send my jack, 

1 A ruff, or band, turned back on the shoulders. 

2 Perilous. ^ Roasting-jack. 



1 66 THE ALCHEMIST. [act II. 

And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine ear. 
Away, thou dost not care for me. 

Face. Not I, sir ! 

Mam. Come, I was bom to make thee, my good weasel, 
Set thee on a bench, and have thee twirl a chain 671 

With the best lord's vermin of 'em all. 

Face. Away, sir. 

Mam. A count, nay, a count palatine 

Face. Good, sir, go. 

Mam. Shall not advance thee better : no, nor faster. 

S^Exit. 
Re-enter Subtle and Dol. 

Sub. Has he bit? has he bit? 

Face. And swallowed too, my Subtle. 
I have given him hne, and now he plays, i' faith. 

Sub. And shall we twitch him ? 6S0 

Face. Thorough both the gills. 
For here is a rare bait, with which a man 
No sooner's taken, but he straight firks mad. 

Sub. Dol, my Lord What's'hums sister, you must now 
Bear yourself statelich. 

Dol. Oh, let me alone. 
I'll not forget my race, I warrant you. 
I'll keep my distance, laugh and talk aloud ; 
Have all the tricks of a proud scurvy lady. 
And be as rude as her woman. 690 

Face. Well said, sanguine ! • 

Sub. But will he send his andirons ? 

Face. His jack too, 
And's iron shoeing-horn ; I have spoke to him. Well, 
I must not loose my wary gamester yonder. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 167 

S'jlf. Oh, Monsieur Caution, that will not be gidPd. 

Face. Ay, 
If I can strike a fine hook into him, now ! 
The Temple Church, there I have cast mine angle. 
Well, pray for me. I'll about it. \_Knocking without. 700 

Sub. What, more gudgeons ! 
Dol, scout, scout ! (DoL goes to the window.) Stay, Face, 

you must go to the door. 
Pray God it be my Anabaptist. — Who is't, Dol? 
. Vol. I know him not : he looks like a gold-endman.^ 

Sub. Ods so! 'tis he, he said he would send — what 
call you him ? 
The sanctified elder, that should deal 
For Mammon's jack and andirons. Let him in. 
Stay, help me off, first, with my gown. {Exit Face with the 

gown.) Away, 
Madam, to your withdrawing chamber. {Exit Dol.) Now, 
In a new tune, new gesture, but old language. — • ^. 710 

This fellow is sent from one negotiates with me 
About the stone too ; for the holy brethren 
Of Amsterdam, the exiled saints ; that hope 
To raise their discipHne by it. I must use him 
In some strange fashion, now, to make him admire me. — 

Enter Ananias. 

{Aloud.) Where is my drudge ? 

Re-enter Face. 

Face. Sir ! 

Sub. Take away the recipient, 

1 One who buys remnants of gold or silver; a goldsmith's apprentice. 



1 68 THE ALCHEMIST. [act ii. 

And rectify your menstrue from the phlegma.^ 

Then pour it on the Sol, in the cucurbite, 720 

And let them macerate - together. 

Face. Yes, sir. 
And save the ground? 

Sub. No : terra dajunata 
Must not have entrance in the work. — Who are you? 

Ana. A faithful brother,^ if it please you. 

Sub. What's that? 
A Lullianist ? '^ a Ripley !^ Filius artis? 
Can you sublime and dulcify ? calcine ? 
Know you the sapor pontic? sapor stiptic? 730 

Or what is homogene, or heterogene ? 

Ana. I understand no heathen language, truly. 

Sub. Heathen ! you Knipper-doling ? ^ is Ars sacra, 
Or chrysopoeia, or spagyrica,'' 
Or the pamphysic, or panarchic knowledge, 
A heathen language ? 

Ana. Heathen Greek, I take it. 

Sub. How heathen Greek ? 

Ana. All's heathen but the Hebrew.^ 

Sub. Sirrah, my varlet, stand you forth and speak to him 
Like a philosopher : answer in the language, 741 

Name the vexations and the martyrizations 

1 Water of distillation. 2 steep. 

3 The Puritans called each other " faithful brothers," 

4 Raymond Lully, one of the most famous philosophers of the Middle 
Age ; b. about 1235, d, 1315. 

5 George Ripley, canon of Bridlington in the fifteenth century, dedicated 
a great work on alchemy to King Edward IV. See Fuller's Worthies. 

6 An Anabaptist, who raised a revolt in Miinster in 1533. 
"^ Alchemical. 

8 The Puritans, taking the Hebrew Old Testament for their guide, treated 
Greek, the language of the New Testament, scornfully. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. i6q 

Of metals in the work. 

Face. Sir, putrefaction, 
Solution, ablution, sublimation, 
Cohobation, calcination, ceration, and 
Fixation. 

Sub. This is heathen Greek to you, now ! — 
And when comes vivification? 

Face. After mortification. 750 

Sub. What's cohobation? 

Face. 'Tis the pouring on 
Your aqua regis,^ and then drawing him off, 
To the trine circle of the seven spheres. 

Sub. What's the proper passion of metals? • 

Face. Malleation. 

Sub. What's your idtimum supplicium auri ? 

Face. Antimonium, 

Sub. This is heathen Greek to you? — And what's your 
mercury ? 760 

Face. A very fugitive, he will be gone, sir. 

Sub. How know you him ? 

Face. By his viscosity. 
His oleosity, and his suscitability. 

Sub. How do you subhme him ? 

Face. With the cake of egg-shells. 
White marble, talc. 

Sub. Your magisterium, now. 
What's that? 

Face. Shifting, sir, your elements, 770 

Dry into cold, cold into moist, moist into hot, 
Hot into dry. 

Sub. This is heathen Greek to you still ! 

1 Nitro-muriatic acid, to dissolve the gold. 



1 70 THE ALCHEMIST. [act ii. 

Your lapis philosophicus ? 

Face. 'Tis a stone, 
And not a stone ; a spirit, a soul, and a body : 
Which if you do dissolve, it is dissolved ; 
If you coagulate, it is coagulated ; 
If you make it to fly, it flieth. 

Siih. Er.3ugh. \^Exit Face. 780 

This is heathen Greek to you ! What are you, sir? 

Ana. Please you, a servant of the exiled brethren 
That deal with widows and with orphans' goods : 
And make a just account unto the saints : 
A deacon. 

Sub. Oh, you are sent from Master Wholesome, 
Your teacher? 

Ana. From Tribulation Wholesome, 
Our very zealous pastor. 

Sub. Good ! I have 790 

Some orphans' goods to come here. 

Ana. Of what kind, sir? 

Sub. Pewter and brass, andirons and kitchenware, 
Metals, that we must use our medicine on : 
•Wherein the brethren may have a pennyworth 
For ready money. 

Ana. Were the orphans' parents 
Sincere professors? 

Sub. Why do you ask? 

Ana. Because 800 

We then are to deal justly, and give in truth 
Their utmost value. 

Sub. 'Slid, you'd cozen else. 
And if their parents were not of the faithful ! — 
I will not trust you, now I think on it, 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 71 

Till I have talked with your pastor. Have you brought 

money 
To buy more coals? 

Ana. No, surely. 

Sub. No ! how so? 

Ana. The brethren bid me say unto you, sir, 810 

Surely they will not venture any more 
Till they may see projection. 

Sub. How ! 

Afia. You have had. 
For the instruments, as bricks, and loam, and glasses, 
Already thirty pound ; and for materials, 
They say, some ninety more : and they have heard since 
That one at Heidelberg made it of an egg 
And a small paper of pin-dust. 

Sub. What's your name ? 820 

Ana. My name is Ananias. 

Sub. Out, the varlet 
That cozen'd the apostles ! Hence, away, 
Flee, mischief ! Had your holy consistory 
No name to send me of another sound 
Than wicked Ananias ? send your elders 
Hither to make atonement for you quickly, 
And give me satisfaction ; or out goes 
The fire ; and down th' alembics, and the furnace, 
Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch ! 830 

Both sericon and bufo ^ shall be lost. 
Tell them. All hope of rooting out the bishops. 
Or the antichristian hierarchy, shall perish, 
If they stay threescore minutes : the aqueity, 
Terreity, and sulphureity 

1 Red tincture and black. 



172 THE ALCHEMIST. [act II. 

Shall run together again, and all be annulled, 

Thou wicked Ananias ! i^Exit Ananias.) This will fetch 'em, 

And make them haste towards their gulling more. 

A man must deal like a rough nurse, and fright 

Those that are froward to an appetite. 840 

Re-enter Face in his uniform, followed by Drugger. 

Face. He is busy with his spirits, but we'll upon him. 

Siib. How now ! what mates, what bayards ^ have we here ? 

Face. I told you he would be furious. — Sir, here's Nab 
Has brought you another piece of gold to look on — 
We must appease him. Give it me — and prays you, 
You would devise — what is it. Nab ? 

Drug. A sign, sir. 

Face. Ay, a good lucky one, a thriving sign, doctor. 

Sub. I was devising now. 

Face. 'Slight, do not say so, 850 

He will repent he gave you any more — 
What say you to his constellation, doctor, 
The Balance ? 

Sub. No, that way is stale and common. 
A townsman born in Taurus gives the bull, 
Or the bull's head : in Aries, the ram, 
A poor device ! No, I will have his name 
Formed in some mystic character ; whose radii. 
Striking the senses of the passers-by. 

Shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections 860 

That may result upon the party owns it : 
As thus 

Face. Nab ! 

Sub. He shall have a bel, that's Abel ; 

1 Bayard, a blind horse. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 73 

And by it standing one whose name is Dee^ 
In a rug gown, there's D, and Rug, that's dt'ug : 
And right anenst him a dog snarhng er; 
There's Drugger, Abel Drugger. That's his sign. 
And here's now mystery and hieroglyphic ! 

Face. xA-bel, thou art made. 870 

Drug. Sir, I do thank his worship. 

Face. Six o' thy legs more will not do it. Nab. 
He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, doctor. 

Drug. Yes, sir : 
I have another thing I would impart 

Face. Out with it, Nab. 

Drug. Sir, there is lodged, hard by me, 
A rich young widow 

Face. Good ! a bona roba? 

Drug. But nineteen at the most. 880 

Face. Very good, Abel. 

Drug. Marry, she's not in fashion yet ; she wears 
A hood, but it stands a cop." 

Face. No matter, Abel. 

Drug. And I do now and then give her a fucus — 

Face. What ! dost thou deal. Nab? 

Sub. I did tell you, captain. 

Drug. And physic, too, sometime, sir ; for which she 
trusts me 
With all her mind. She's come up here of purpose 
To learn the fashion. 890 

Face. Good (his match too !) — On, Nab. 

Drug. And she does strangely long to know her fortune. 

1 Dr. John Dee, alchemist and scholar, who modestly said that if he had 
found a Maecenas, Britain would not have lacked an Aristotle. 
- Ending in a point. 



174 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT II. 

Face. Ods lid, Nab, send her to the doctor, hither. 

Drug. Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship already ; 
But she's afraid it will be blown abroad, 
And hurt her marriage. 

Face. Hurt it ! 'tis the way 
To heal it, if 'twere hurt ; to make it more 
Followed and sought ; Nab, thou shalt tell her this. 
She'll be more known, more talked of; and your widows 900 
Are ne'er of any price till they be famous : 
Their honour is their multitude of suitors : 
Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What ! 
Thou dost not know. 

Drug. No, sir, she'll never marry 
Under a knight : her brother has made a vow. 

Face. What ! and dost thou despair, my little Nab, 
Knowing what the doctor has set down for thee, 
And seeing so many of the city dubbed ? 
One glass o' thy water, with a madam I know, 910 

Will have it done, Nab ; what's her brother — a knight? 

Drug. No, sir, a gentleman newly warm in his land, sir, 
Scarce cold in his one-and-twenty, that does govern 
His sister here ; and is a man himself 
Of some three thousand a year, and is come up 
To learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits, 
And will go down again, and die in the country. 

Face. How ! to quarrel ? 

Drug. Yes, sir, to carry quarrels. 
As gallants do ; to manage them by line.^ 920 

Face. 'Slid, Nab, the doctor is the only man 
In Christendom for him. He has made a table, 
With mathematical demonstrations, 

1 Cf. Hamlet's " speak by the card." 



SCENE LJ THE ALCHEMIST. 1 75 

Touching the art of quarrels : he will give him 

An instrument to quarrel by. Go, bring them both. 

Him and his sister. And, for thee, with her 

The doctor haply may persuade. Go to : 

Shalt give his worship a new damask suit 

Upon the premises. 

Sub. Oh, good captain ! 930 

Face. He shall ; 
He is the honestest fellow, doctor. — Stay not, 
No offers ; bring the damask, and the parties. 

Drug. I'll try my power, sir. 

Face. And thy will, too. Nab. 

Sub. 'Tis good tobacco, this ! What is't an ounce? 

Face. He'll send you a pound, doctor. 

Sub. Oh, no. 

Face. He will do't. 
It is the goodest soul Abel ! — Abel, about it. 940 

Thou shalt know more anon. Away, begone. — \^Extf Abel. 
A miserable rogue, and lives with cheese. 
And has the worms. That was the cause, indeed. 
Why he came now : he dealt with me in private. 
To get a med'cine for them. 

Sub. And shall, sir. This works. 

Face. A wife, a wife for one of us, my dear Subtle ! 
We'll e'en draw lots, and he that fails, shall have 
The more in goods. 

Sub. Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine. 950 

Face. Content ; but Dol must have no breath on't. 

Sub. Mum. 
Away you, to your Surly yonder, catch him. 

Face. Pray God, I have not stayed too long. 

Sub. I fear it. [Exeunt 



176 THE ALCHEMIST. [act III. 



ACT III. 
Scene I. — The Lane before Lovewit's House. 
Enter Tribulation Wholesome and Ananias. 

Tri. These chastisements are common to the saints, 
And such rebukes, we of the separation 
Must bear with wilHng shoulders, as the trials 
Sent forth to tempt our frailties. 

Ajia. In pure zeal, 
I do not like the man, he is a heathen, 
And speaks the language of Canaan, truly. 

Tri. I think him a profane person indeed. 

Ana. He bears 
The visible mark of the beast in his forehead. 
And for his stone, it is a work of darkness, 
And with philosophy bUnds the eyes of man. 

Tri. Good brother, we must bend unto all means 
That may give furtherance to the holy cause. 

Ana. Which his cannot : the sanctified cause 
Should have a sanctified course. 

Tri. Not always necessary : 
The children of perdition are ofttimes 
Made instruments even of the greatest works : 
Beside, we should give somewhat to man's nature. 
The place he lives in, still about the fire, 
And fume of metals, that intoxicate 
The brain of man, and make him prone to passion. 
Where have you greater atheists than your cooks ? 
Or more profane, or choleric than your glass-men ? 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 77 

More antichristian than your bell- founders ? 

What makes the devil so devilish, I would ask you, 

Satan, our common enemy, but his being 

Perpetually about the fire, and boiling 

Brimstone and arsenic ? We must give, I say, 30 

Unto the motives, and the stirrers-up 

Of humours in the blood. It may be so, 

Whenas the work is done, the stone is made, 

This heat of his may turn into a zeal, 

And stand up for the beauteous discipline, 

Against the filthy cloth and rag of Rome. 

We must await his calling, and the coming 

Of the good spirit. You did fault t'upbraid him 

With the brethren's blessing of Heidelberg, weighing 

What need we have to hasten on the work 40 

For the restoring of the silenced saints. 

Which ne'er will be, but by the philosopher's stone. 

And so a learned elder, one of Scotland, 

Assured me ; aurum potabile being 

The only med'cine for the civil magistrate 

T'incHne him to a feeUng of the cause, 

And must be daily used in the disease. 

Ana. I have not edified more, truly, by man ; 
Not since the beautiful light first shone on me : 
And I am sad my zeal hath so offended. 50 

Tri. Let us call on him then. 

Ana. The motion's good. 
And of the spirit; I will knock first. {K?tocks.) Peace 
within ! [_The door is opened^ and they enter. 



178 THE ALCHEMIST. [act hi. 

Scene II. — A Room in Lovewit's House. 
Enter^xjBT-LE., followed by Tribulation ^;2^ Ananias. 

Sub. Oh, are you come? 'Twas time. Your threescore 
minutes 
Were at last thread, you see ; and down had gone 
Furnus acedice, turris circulato7'is : 
Lembec, bolt's-head, retort and peUcan 
Had all been cinders. — Wicked Ananias ! 
Art thou returned ? Nay then, it goes down yet. 

Tri. Sir, be appeased ; he is come to humble 
Himself in spirit, and to ask your patience, 
If too much zeal hath carried him aside 
From the due path. 10 

Sub. Why, this doth qualify ! 

Tri. The brethren had no purpose, verily. 
To give you the least grievance : but are ready 
To lend their willing hands to any project 
The spirit and you direct. 

Sub. This qualifies more ! 

Tri. And for the orphan's goods, let them be valued, 
Or what is needful else to the holy work. 
It shall be numbered ; here, by me, the saints 
Throw down their purse before you. 20 

Sub. This qualifies most ! 
Why, thus it should be, now you understand. 
Have I discoursed so unto you of our stone. 
And of the good that it shall bring your cause ? 
Showed you (beside the main of hiring forces 
Abroad, drawing the Hollanders, your friends. 
From the Indies, to serve you with all their fleet) 



THE ALCHEMIST. 



179 



That even the med'cinal use shall make you a faction 
And party in the realm ? As, put the case, 
That some great man in state, he have the gout, 30 

Why, you but send three drops of your elixir, 
You help him straight : there you have made a friend. 
Another has the palsy or the dropsy, 
He takes of your incombustible stuff, 
He's young again : there you have made a friend. 
A lady that is past the feat of body, 
Though not of mind, and hath her face decayed 
Beyond all cure of paintings, you restore 
With the oil of talc : there you have made a friend, 
And all her friends. A lord that is a leper, 40 

, A knight that has the bone-ache, or a squire 
That hath both these, you make them smooth and sound 
With a bare fricace of your med'cine : still 
You increase your friends. 

7/7. Ay, it is very pregnant. 

Sub. And then the turning of this lawyer's pewter 
To plate at Christmas 

Alia. Christ- tide,^ I pray you. 

Sub. Yet, Ananias ! 

Ana. I have done. 50 

Sub. Or changing 
His parcel gilt to massy gold. You cannot 
But raise your friends. Withal to be of power 
To pay an army in the field, to buy 
The kmg of France out of his realms, or Spain 
Out of his Indies. What can you not do 
Against lords spiritual or temporal, 

^ The Puritans, scrupulous to avoid everything Romish, called Christ;«aj 
" ChxisX-tide." 



l8o THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT ill. 

That shall oppone you? 

Tri. Verily, 'tis true. 
We may be temporal lords ourselves, I take it. 60 

Sub. You may be anything, and leave off to make 
Long-winded exercises ; or suck up 
Your ha ! and hum ! in a tune. I not deny 
But such as are not graced in a state. 
May, for their ends, be adverse in religion, 
And get a tune to call the flock together : 
For, to say sooth, a tune does much with women 
And other phlegmatic people ; it is your bell. 

Ana. Bells are profane ; a tune may be religious. 

Sub. No warning with you ! then farewell my patience. 70 
'Slight, it shall down : I will not be thus tortured. 

Tri. I pray you, sir. 

Sub. All shall perish. I have spoke it. 

Tri. Let me find grace, sir, in your eyes : the man 
He stands corrected : neither did his zeal. 
But as yourself, allow a tune somewhere. 
Which now, being tow'rd the stone, we shall not need. 

Sub. No, nor your holy vizard, to win widows 
To give you legacies ; or make zealous wives 
To rob their husbands for the common cause : 80 

Nor take the start of bonds broke but one day, 
And say they were forfeited by providence. 
Nor shall you need o'ernight to eat huge meals. 
To celebrate your next day's fast the better ; 
The whilst the brethren and the sisters humbled. 
Abate the stiffness of the flesh. Nor cast 
Before your hungry hearers scrupulous bones ; 
As whether a Christian may hawk or hunt, 
Or whether matrons of the holy assembly 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. l8l 

May lay their hair out, or wear doublets, 90 

Or have that idol starch about their linen. 

A?ta. It is indeed an idol. 

Tri. Mind him not, sir. 
I do command thee, spirit of zeal, but trouble, 
To peace within him ! Pray you, sir, go on. 

Sub. Nor shall you need to libel 'gainst the prelates, 
And shorten so your ears against the hearing 
Of the next wire-drawn grace. Nor of necessity 
Rail against plays, to please the alderman 
Whose daily custard you devour : nor lie 100 

With zealous rage till you are hoarse. Not one 
Of these so singular arts. Nor call yourselves 
By names of Tribulation, Persecution, 
Restraint, Long-patience, and such like, affected 
By the whole family, or wood of you. 
Only for glory, and to catch the ear 
Of the disciple. 

Tri. Truly, sir, they are 
Ways that the godly brethren have invented 
For propagation of the glorious cause, no 

As very notable means, and whereby also 
Themselves grow soon, and profitably, famous. 

Sub, Oh, but the stone, all's idle to it ! Nothing ! 
The art of angels, nature's miracle, 
The divine secret that doth fly in clouds 
From east to west ; and whose tradition 
Is not from men, but spirits. 

A7ia. I hate traditions ; 
I do not trust them. 

Tri. Peace ! 120 

Ana. They are popish all. 



1 82 THE ALCHEMIST. [act II 

I will not peace : I will not 

Tri. Ananias ! 

Ana. Please the profane, to grieve the godly ; I may not. 

Sub. Well, Ananias, thou shalt overcome. 

Tri. It is an ignorant zeal that haunts him, sir. 
But truly, else, a very faithful brother, 
A botcher, and a man, by revelation, 
That hath a competent knowledge of the truth. 

Sub. Has he a competent sum there in the bag 130 

To buy the goods within? I am made guardian, 
And must, for charity, and conscience' sake. 
Now see the most be made for my poor orphan ; 
Though I desire the brethren too good gainers ; 
There they are within. When you have view'd, and bought 

'em. 
And ta'en the inventory of what they are. 
They are ready for projection ; there's no more 
To do ; cast on the med'cine so much silver 
As there is tin there, so much gold as brass, 
I'll give it you in, by weight. 140 

Tri. But how long time. 
Sir, must the saints expect yet? 

Sub. Let me see. 
How's the moon now ? Eight, nine, ten days hence, 
He will be silver potate ; then three days 
Before he citronise : some fifteen days. 
The magisterium will be perfected. 

Ana. About the second day of the third week, 
In the ninth month ? 

Sub. Yes, my good Ananias. 150 

Tri. What will the orphans' goods arise to, think you? 

Sub. Some hundred marks, as much as filled three cars. 



1 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 183 

Unladed now : you'll make six millions of them. 
But I must have more coals laid in. 

Tri. How ! 

Sub. Another load, 
And then we have finished. We must now increase 
Our fire to ignis ardefis, we are past 
Fi77ius equinus, babiei, cineris, 

And all those lenter heats. If the holy purse 160 

Should with this draught fall low, and that the saints 
Do need a present sum, I have a trick 
To melt the pewter, you shall buy now, instantly, 
And with a tincture make you as good Dutch dollars 
As any are in Holland. 

Tri. Can you so ? 

Sub. Ay, and shall 'bide the third examination. 

Ana. It will be joyful tidings to the brethren. 

Sub. But you must carry it secret. 

Tri. Ay, but stay, 170 

This act of coining, is it lawful? 

Ana. Lawful ! 
We know no magistrate ; or, if we did,^ 
This is foreign coin. 

Sub. It is no coining, sir. 
It is but casting. 

Tri. Ha ! you distinguish well : 
Casting of money may be lawful. 

Ana. 'Tis, sir. 

Tri. Truly, I take it so. 180 

Sub. There is no scruple. 
Sir, to be made of it ; believe Ananias : 

1 A fine stroke ! The Puritans refused to recognize the then existing 
civil governments as being divinely sanctioned. 



1 84 THE ALCHEMIST. [act III. 

This case of conscience he is studied in. 

Tri. I'll make a question of it to the brethren. 

Ana. The brethren shall approve it lawful, doubt not. 
Where shall it be done ? \_Kfiockijig witJwut. 

Sub. For that we'll talk anon. 
There's some to speak with me. Go in, I pray you, 
And view the parcels. That's the inventory. 
I'll come to you straight. \_Exeunt Trie, and Ana.^ 

Who is it? — Face ! appear. 190 

Enter Face in his ufiiform. 

How now ! Good prize ? 

Face. Good plague ! Yond' costive cheater 
Never came on. 

Sub. How then? 

Face. I have walked the round 
Till now, and no such thing. 

Sub. And have you quit him ? 

Face. Quit him ! an hell would quit him too, he were happy. 
'Slight ! Would you have me stalk Hke a mill-jade, 
All day, for one that will not yield us grains ? 200 

I know him of old. 

Sub. Oh, but to have gulled him 
Had been a mastery. 

Face. Let him go, black boy ! 
And turn thee that some fresh news may possess thee. 
A noble count, a don of Spain, my dear 
Delicious compeer, and my party- bawd, 
Who is come hither private for his conscience, 

1 It is well to remember, in reading Jonson's satires on the Puritans, 
.hat he was brought up in the Cliurch of England, then joined the Catholic 
whurch, and finally returned to Anglicanism. 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 85 

And brought munition with him, six great slops/ 

Bigger than three Dutch hoys,^ beside round trunks/ 210 

Furnished with pistolets, and pieces of eight, 

Will straight be here, my rogue, to have thy bath 

(That is the colour) , and to make his battery 

Upon our Dol, our castle, our Cinque-port,* 

Our Dover pier, our what thou wilt. Where is she ? 

She must prepare perfumes, deHcate linen. 

The bath in chief, a banquet, and her wit. 

Where is the doxy? 

Sub. I'll send her to thee : 
And but dispatch my brace of little John Leydens,^ 220 

And come again myself. 

Face. Are they within, then ? 

Sub. Numbering the sum. 

Face. How much? 

Sub. A hundred marks, boy. \_Fxit 

Face. Why, this is a lucky day. Ten pounds of Mammon ! 
Three of my clerk ! A portague of my grocer ! 
This of the brethren 1 beside reversions. 
And states to come in the widow, and my count ! 
My share to-day will not be bought for forty 230 

Enter Dol. 
Dol. W^hat? 

Face. Pounds, dainty Dorothy ! Art thou so near? 
Dol. Yes ; say, lord general, how. fares our camp ? 

1 Large, loose breeches. 2 Unwieldy Dutch ships. 3 Hose. 

■* The Cinque Ports were on the south coast of England, facing France, 
and under the government of a warden. Originally there were five, as 
the name implies : Dover, Sandwich, Romney, Hastings, and Hithe ; Win- 
chelsea and Rye were added later. 

5 The famous Anabaptist leader, put to death in 1536. 



1 86 THE ALCHEMIST. [act ill. 

Face. As with the few that had entrenched themselves 
Safe, by their disciphne, against a world, Dol, 
And laughed within those trenches, and grew fat 
With thinking on the booties, Dol, brought in 
Daily by their small parties. This dear hour 
A doughty don is taken with my Dol ; 

And thou may'st make his ransom what thou wilt, 240 

My Dousabel ; he shall be brought here fettered 
With thy fair looks, before he sees thee, — and thrown 
In a down -bed, as dark as any dungeon ; 
Till he be tame 

As the poor blackbirds were in the great frost. 
Or bees are with a bason ; and so hive him 
My little God's-gift.^ 

Dol. What is he, general ? 

Face. An adalantado, 
A grandee, girl. Was not my Dapper here yet? 250 

Dol. No. 

Face. Nor my Drugger? 

Dol. Neither. 

Face. A plague on 'em. 
They are so long a-furnishing ! Such stinkards 
W^ould not be seen upon these festival days. — 

Re-enter Subtle. 

How now ! have you done ? 

Sub. Done. They are gone : the sum 
Is here in bank, my Face. I would we knew 
Another chapman now would buy 'em outright. 260 

Face. 'Shd, Nab shall do't against he have the widow 
To furnish household. 

1 A play on Dol's name, Dorothea meaning Gods-gijis. 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 1 87 

Sub. Excellent, well thought on : 
Pray God he come ! 

Face. I pray he keep away 
Till our new business be o'erpast. 

Sul?. But, Face, 
How cam'st thou by this secret don? 

Face. A spirit 
Brought me th' intelligence in a paper here, 270 

As I was conjuring yonder in my circle 
For Surly ; I have my flies abroad. Your bath 
Is famous, Subtle, by my means. Sweet Dol, 
Tickle him with thy mother-tongue. His great 
Verdugoship^ has not a jot of language ; 
So much the easier to be cozened, my Dolly. 
He will come here in a hired coach, obscure. 
And our own coachman, whom I have sent as guide. 
No creature else. {^Kiio eking without.) Who's that? 

\Exit Dol. 

Sub. It is not he ? 280 

Face. O no, not yet this hour. 

Re-enter Dol. 

Sub. Whois't? 

Dol. Dapper, 
Your clerk. 

Face. God's will then, Queen of Fairy, 
On with your tire ; — {exit Dol) — and doctor, with your 

robes. 
Let's dispatch him, for God's sake. 

Sub. 'Twill be long. 

Face. I warrant you, take but the cue I give you, 

1 Verdugo was the name of a noble Spanish family. 



1 88 THE ALCHEMIST. [act III. 

It shall be brief enough. — {Goes to the window.') — 'Slight, 
here are more ! 290 

Abel, and I think the angry boy, the heir, 
That fain would quarrel. 

Sub. And the widow? 

Face. No. 
Not that I see. Away ! \^Exit Sub. 

Enter Dapper. 

Oh, sir, you are welcome. 
The doctor is within a-moving for you ; 
I have had the most ado to win him to it ! 
He swears you'll be the darling of the dice : 
He never heard her highness dote till now, 
Your aunt has given you the most gracious words 300 

That can be thought on. 

Dap. Shall I see her grace ? 

Face. See her, and kiss her too. — 

Enter Abyi., followed by Kastril. 

What, honest Nab ! 
Hast brought the damask? 

Drug. No, sir ; here's tobacco. 

Face. 'Tis well done. Nab : thou'lt bring the damask too ? 

Drug. Yes : here's the gentleman, captain. Master Kastril, 
I have brought to see the doctor. 

Face. Where's the widow? 

Drug, Sir, as he likes, his sister, he says, shall come. 310 

Face. Oh, is it so? Good time. Is your name Kastril, sir? 

Kas. Ay, and the best of the Kastrils, I'd be sorry else, 
By fifteen hundred a-year. Where is the doctor? 
My mad tobacco-boy, here, tells me of one 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 189 

That can do things : has he any skill ? 

Face. Wherein, sir? 

Kas. To carry a business, manage a quarrel fairly. 
Upon fit terms. 

Face. It seems, sir, you are but young 
About the town, that can make that a question. 320 

Kas. Sir, not so young but I have heard some speech 
Of the angry boys, and seen them take tobacco. 
And in his shop ; and I can take it too. 
And I would fain be one of 'em, and go down 
And practise in the country. 

Face. Sir, for the duello. 
The doctor, I assure you, shall inform you, 
To the least shadow of a hair, and show you 
An instrument he has of his own making, 
Wherewith no sooner shall you make report 330 

Of any quarrel, but he will take the height on't 
Most instantly, and tell in what degree 
Of safety it lies in, or mortality. 
And how it may be borne, whether in a right line. 
Or a half-circle ; or may else be cast 
Into an angle blunt, if not acute : 
All this he will demonstrate. And then, rules 
To give and take the lie by. 

Kas. How ! to take it ? 

Face. Yes, in obhque he'll show you, or in circle ; ^ 340 
But never in diameter. The whole town 
Study his theorems, and dispute them ordinarily 
At the eating academies. 

Kas. But does he teach 

1 One critic remarks that Shakespeare, Fletcher, and Jonson tried to 
bring duelling into disrepute, by satirizing it; yet Jonson fought a duel, and 
killed his man. 



ipo THE ALCHEMIST. [act hi. 



1 



Living by the wits too ? 

Face. Anything whatever. 
You cannot think that subtlety but he reads it. 
He made me a captain. I was a stark pimp, 
Just of your standing, 'fore I met with him ; 
It is not two months since. I'll tell you his method : 350 
First, he will enter you at some ordinary.^ 

Kas. No, I'll not come there ; you shall pardon me. 

Face. For why, sir? 

Kas. There's gaming there, and tricks. 

Face. Why, would you be 
A gallant, and not game ? 

Kas. Ay, 'twill spend a man. 

Face. Spend you ! It will repair you when you are spent : 
How do they live by their wits there, that have vented 
Six times your fortunes ? 360 

Kas. What, three thousand a year ! 

Face. Ay, forty thousand. 

Kas. Are there such? 

Face. Ay, sir. 
And gallants yet. Here's a young gentleman 
Is born to nothing — (^points to Dapper) — forty marks a-year, 
Which I count nothing : — he is to be initiated, 
And have a fly of the doctor. He will win you, 
By unresistible luck, within this fortnight, 
Enough to buy a barony. They will set him 370 

Upmost, at the groom porters, all the Christmas : 
And for the whole year through, at every place 
Where there is play, present him with the chair ; 
The best attendance, the best drink ; sometimes 
Two glasses of canary, and pay nothing ; 
1 Eating-place. 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. I9I 

The purest linen and the sharpest knife, 

The partridge next his trencher ; and somewhere 

The dainty nook in private with the dainty. 

You shall have your ordinaries bid for him, 

As playhouses for a poet ; and the master 380 

Pray him aloud to name what dish he affects, 

Which must be buttered shrimps ; and those that drink 

To no mouth else, will drink to his, as being 

The goodly president mouth of all the board. 

Kas. Do you not gull one? 

Face. Ods, my life ! do you think it? 
You shall have a cast commander (can but get 
In credit with a glover, or a spurrier, 
For some two pair of either's ware aforehand), 
Will by most swift posts, dealing with him, 390 

Arrive at competent means to keep himself, 
And be admired for't. 

Kas. Will the doctor teach this? 

Face. He will do more, sir : w^hen your land is gone, 
As men of spirit hate to keep earth long 
In a vacation, when small money is stirring. 
And ordinaries suspended till the term, 
He'll show a perspective, where on one side 
You shall behold the faces and the persons 
Of all sufficient young heirs in town, 400 

Whose bonds are current for commodity ^ ; 
On th' other side, the merchants' forms, and others. 
That without help of any second broker, 
Who would expect a share, will trust such parcels : 
In the third square, the very street and sign 

1 Young spendthrifts had to take in merchandise part of the sums they 
borrowed from usurers, who thus made a large profit. 



192 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT III. 

Where the commodity dwells, and does but wait 

To be delivered, be it pepper, soap, 

Hops, or tobacco, oatmeal, wood, or cheeses. 

All which you may so handle, to enjoy 

To your own use, and never stand obhged. 410 

Kas. V faith ! is he such a fellow? 

Face. Why, Nab here knows him. 
And then for making matches for rich widows, 
Young gentlewomen, heirs, the fortunatest man ! 
He's sent to, far and near, all over England, 
To have his counsel, and to know their fortunes. 

Kas. God's will, my suster shall see him. 

Face, ril tell you, sir, 
What he did tell me of Nab. It's a strange thing : — 
By the way, you must eat no cheese. Nab, it breeds 420 

melancholy. 
And that same melancholy breeds worms ; but pass it : — 
He told me honest Nab here was ne'er at tavern 
But once in's life. 

Drug. Truth, and no more I was not. 

Face. And then he was so sick 



Drug. Could he tell you that too ? 

Face. How should I know it ? 

Drug. In troth we had been a-shooting, 
And had a piece of fat ram mutton to supper, 430 

That lay so heavy o' my stomach 

Face. And he has no head 
To bear any wine ; for what with the noise of the fiddlers 
And care of his shop, for he dares keep no servants 

Drug. My head did so ache 

Face. As he was fain to be brought home, 
The doctor told me : and then a good old woman 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 193 

Drug. Yes, faith — she dwells in Sea-coal Lane — did cure 
me, 
With sodden ale and pellitory ^ of the wall ; 
Cost me but twopence. — I had another sickness 440 

Was worse than that. 

Face. Ay, that was with the grief 
Thou took'st for being cessed - at eighteen-pence 
For the waterwork. 

Drug. In truth, and it was like 
T' have cost me almost my life. 

Face. Thy hair went off? 

Drug. Yes, sir ; 'twas done for spite. 

Face. Nay, so says the doctor. 

Kas. Pray thee, tobacco boy, go fetch my suster ; 450 

I'll see this learned boy before I go, 
And so shall she. 

Face. Sir, he is busy now ; 
But if you have a sister to fetch hither, 
Perhaps your own pains may command her sooner, 
And he by that time will be free. 

Kas. I go. \_Exit. 

Face. Drugger, she's thine : the damask ! \^Exit Abel. 

{Aside) Subtle and I 
Must wrestle for her. — Come on, Master Dapper, 
You see how I turn clients here away, 460 

To give your cause dispatch ; have you performed 
The ceremonies were enjoined you? 

Dap. Yes, of the vinegar 
And the clean shirt. 

Face. 'Tis well : that shirt may do you 
More worship than you think. Your aunt's a-fire, 

1 A kind of weeds which grow on walls. 2 Taxed. 



194 THE ALCHEMIST. [act ill. 

But that she will not show it, t' have a sight of you. 
Have you provided for her grace's servants? 

Dap. Yes, here are six score Edward shillings. 

Face. Good ! 470 

Dap. And an old Harry's sovereign. 

Face. Very good ! 

Dap. And three James shillings, and an Elizabeth groat ; 
Just twenty nobles. 

Face. Oh, you are too just. 
I would you had had the other noble in Maries. 

Dap. I have some Philip and Maries. 

Face. Ay, those same 
Are best of all : where are they ? Hark, the doctor. 

Ffifer Subtle disguised like a priest of Fairy, with a stripe 
of cloth. 

Sub. {in a feigned voice) . Is yet her grace's cousin come ? 

Face. He is come. 481 

Sub. And is he fasting? 

Face. Yes. 

Sub. And hath cried hum? 

Face. Thrice, you must answer. 

Dap. Thrice. 

Sub. And as oft buz ? 

Face. If you have, say. 

Dap. I have. 

Sub. Then, to her cuz, • 490 

Hoping that he hath vinegared his senses. 
As he was bid, the Fairy Queen dispenses, 
By me, this robe, the petticoat of fortune ; 
Which that he straight put on, she doth importune. 
And though to fortune near be her petticoat, 



SCENE ii.J THE ALCHEMIST. 195 

Yet nearer is her smock, the Queen doth note : 

And therefore, even of that a piece she hath sent, 

Which, being a child, to wrap him in was rent ; 

And prays him for a scarf he now will wear it, 

With as much love as then her grace did tear it, 500 

About his eyes — {they bind hi7?i with the rag) — to show he 

is fortunate. 
And, trusting unto her to make his state, 
He'll throw away all worldly pelf about him ; 
Which that he will perform, she doth not doubt him. 

Face. She need not doubt him, sir. Alas, he has nothing 
But what he will part withal as willingly 
Upon her grace's word — throw away your purse — 
As she would ask it; — handkerchiefs and all — 

\_He throws away as they bid him. 
She cannot bid that thing but he'll obey. — 
If you have a ring about you, cast it off, 510 

Or a silver seal at your wrist ; her grace will send 
Her fairies here to search you, therefore deal 
Directly with her highness : if they find 
That you conceal a mite, you are undone. 

Dap. Truly, there's all. 

Face. All what? 

Dap. My money : truly. 

Face. Keep nothing that is transitory about you. 
{Aside to Subtle.) Bid Dol play music. — Look, the elves 
are come \\)q\. plays 071 the cittern within. 

To pinch you, if you tell not truth. Advise you. 520 

\_They pinch him. 

Dap. Oh ! I have a paper with a spur-ryal ^ in't. 

Face. Ti, ti. 

1 A gold coin, valued at 15J. in 1606. 



196 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT III, 

They knew't, they say. 

Sub. Ti, ti, ti, ti. He has more yet. 

Face. Ti, ti-ti-ti. In the other pocket. \_Aside to Sub. 

Sub. Titi, titi, titi, iiti, titi. 
They must pinch him or he will never confess, they say. 

\They pinch him again. 

Dap. Oh, oh ! 

Face. Nay, pray you hold : he is her grace's nephew. 
7}', ti, ti? What care you ? Good faith, you shall care. — 
Deal plainly, sir, and shame the fairies. Show 531 

You are innocent. 

Dap. By this good light, I have nothing. 

Sub. Ti, ti, ti, ti, to, ta. He does equivocate, she says : 
Ti, ti, do ti, ti, ti, do, ti, da ; and swears by the light when 
he is blinded. 

Dap. By this good da7'k, I have nothing but a half-crown 
Of gold about my wrist, that my love gave me ; 
And a leaden heart I wote since she forsook me. 

Face. I thought 'twas something. And would you incur 
Your aunt's displeasure for these trifles? Come, 540 

I had rather you had thrown away twenty half-crowns. 

{Takes it off. 
You may wear your leaden heart still. — 

Enter Dol hastily. 

How now ( 

Sub. What news, Dol? 
Dol. Yonder's your knight, Sir Mammon. 
Face. Ods lid, we never thought of him till now ! 
Where is he? 

Dol. Here hard by : he is at the door. 

Sub. And you are not ready, now ! Dol, get his suit. 

{Exit Dol. 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 197 

He must not be sent back. 

Face. Oh, by no means. 550 

What shall we do with this same puffin ^ here, 
Now he's on the spit ? 

^ib. Why, lay him back awhile 
With some device. 

Re-enter DoL ivith Face's clothes, 

— 7}*, //, ti, ti, ti, ti. Would her grace speak with me ? 

I come. — Help, Dol ! \_Knocking without. 

Face {^speaks through the key-hole). Who's there? Sir 
Epicure, 
My master's in the way. Please you to walk 
Three or four turns, but till his back be turned, 
And I am for you. Quickly, Dol ! 560 

Sub. Her grace 
Commends her kindly to you, Master Dapper. 

Dap. I long to see her grace. 

Sub. She now is set 
At dinner in her bed, and she has sent you 
From her own private trencher a dead mouse. 
And a piece of gingerbread, to be merry withal, 
And stay your stomach, lest you faint with fasting. 
Yet if you could hold out till she saw you, she says 
It would be better for you. 570 

Face. Sir, he shall 
Hold out, an 'twere this two hours, for her highness ; 
I can assure you that. We will not lose 
All we have done. 

Sub. He must not see nor speak 
To anybody till then. 

1 Kind of gull. 



198 THE ALCHEMIST. [act IV. 

Face. For that we'll put, sir, 
A stay in's mouth. 

Sub. Of what? 

Face. Of gingerbread. 580 

Make you it fit. He that hath pleased her grace * 

Thus far, shall not now crinkle ^ for a little. — 
Gape, sir, and let him fit you. 

\^They fhriist a gag of gingerbread in his mouth. 

Sub. Come along, sir, 
I now must show you Fortune's privy lodgings. 

Face. Are they perfumed, and his bath ready? 

Sub. All: 
Only the fumigation's somewhat strong. 

Face {speaking through the key-hole). Sir Epicure, I am 
yours, sir, by-and-by. \_Exeunt with Dapper. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — A Room in Lovewit's House. 

Enter Face and Mammon. 

Face. Oh, sir, you are come in the only finest time. 
Mam. Where's master? 
Face. Now preparing for projection, sir. 
Your stuff will be all changed shortly. 
Mam. Into gold ? 
Face. To gold and silver, sir. 
Mam. Silver I care not for. 
Face. Yes, sir, a little to give beggars. 
Mam. Where's the lady? 

1 Bend, waver. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 199 

Face. At hand here. I have told her such brave things of 
you, 10 

Touching your bounty and your noble spirit 

Ma?n. Hast thou ? 

Face. As she is almost in her fit to see you. 
But, good sir, no divinity in your conference, 
For fear of putting her in rage. 

Mam. I warrant thee. 

Face. Six men, sir, will not hold her down ; and then 
If the old man should hear or see you 

Mam. Fear not. 

Face. The very house, sir, would run mad. You know it, 20 
How scrupulous he is, and violent, 
'Gainst the least act of sin.^ Physic or mathematics, 
Poetry, state, or frolic, as I told you, 
She will endure, and never startle ; but 
No word of controversy. 

Mam. I am schooled, good Ulen. 

Face. And you must praise her house, remember that, 
And her nobility. 

Mam. Let me alone : 
No herald, no, nor antiquary, Lungs, 30 

Shall do it better. Go. 

Face (^aside) . Why, this is yet 
A kind of modern happiness to have 
Dol Common for a great lady. \_Exit. 

Mam. Now, Epicure, 
Heighten thyself, talk to her all in gold ; 
Rain her as many showers as Jove did drops 
Unto his Danae ; show the god a miser 
Compared with Mammon. What ! The stone will do't. 

1 Alchemists pretended to lead spotless lives, in order to the success of 
their experiments. 



200 THE ALCHEMIST. [act iv. 

^e shall feel gold, taste gold, hear gold, sleep gold ; 40 

I will be puissant and mighty in my talk to her. 

Re-enter Face, with Dol richly dressed. 

Here she comes. 

Face. To him, Dol, suckle him. This is the noble knight ; 
I told your ladyship 

Mam. Madam, with your pardon, 
I kiss your vesture. 

Vol. Sir, I were uncivil 
If I would suffer that ; my lip to you, sir. 

Mam. I hope my lord, your brother, be in health, lady. 

Dol. My lord, my brother is, though I no lady, sir. 50 

Face {aside). Well said, my Guinea bird. 

Ma?n. Right noble madam 

Face {aside). Oh, we shall have most fierce idolatry. 

Mam. 'Tis your prerogative 

Dol. Rather your courtesy. 

Mam. Were there nought else to enlarge your virtues to 
me, 
These answers speak your breeding and your blood. 

Dol. Blood we boast none, sir, a poor baron's daughter. 

Mam. Poor ! And gat you ? Profane not. Had your 
father 
Slept all the happy remnant of his hfe 60 

He had done enough to make himself, his issue, 
And his posterity noble. 

Dol. Sir, although 
We may be said to want the gilt and trappings, 
The dress of honour, yet we strive to keep 
The seeds and the materials. 

Alam. I do see 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 20I 

The old ingredient, virtue, was not lost, 

Nor the drug money used to make your compound. 

There is a strange nobility in your eye, 70 

This lip, that chin ! Methinks you do resemble 

One of the Austrian princes.^ 

Face {aside). Very Uke ! 
Her father was an Irish costermonger.^ 

Mam. The House of Valois^ just had such a nose, 
And such a forehead yet the Medici 
Of Florence boast. 

Dol. Troth, and I have been likened 
To all these princes. 

Face. I'll be sworn I heard it. 80 

Ma??i. {aside). I know not how ! It is not any one. 
But e'en the very choice of all their features. 

Face {aside). I'll in, and laugh. \_ExiL 

Mam. A certain touch, or air. 
That sparkles a divinity beyond 
An earthly beauty ! 

Dol. Oh, you play the courtier. 

Mam. Good lady, give me leave ^— 

Vol. In faith I may not. 
To mock me, sir. 90 

Mam. To burn in this sweet flame ; 
The phoenix never knew a nobler death. 

Vol. Nay, now you court the courtier, and destroy 
What you would build : this art, sir, in your words 
Calls your whole faith in question. 

1 The Hapsburgers were noted for " a sweet fulness of the lower lip." 
Swift assigned this feature to the Emperor of Lilliput. 

2 The hucksters in London were usually Irish. 

8 The characteristic feature of the Valois was a Roman nose. 



THE ALCHEMIST. [act IV. 



Mam. By my soul 



Dol. Nay, oaths are made of the same air, sir. 

Mam. Nature 
Never bestow'd upon mortahty 

A more unblamed, a more harmonious feature ; loo 

She played the step-dame in all faces else : 
Sweet madam, let me be particular 

Dol. Particular, sir ! I pray you know your distance. 

Mam. In no ill sense, sweet lady ; but to ask 
How your fair graces pass the hours ? I see 
You are lodged here in the house of a rare man, 
An excellent artist ; but what's that to you ? 

Dol. Yes, sir ; I study here the mathematics 
And distillation.^ 

Mam. Oh, I cry your pardon. no 

He's a divine instructor : can extract 
The souls of all things by his art ; call all 
The virtues and the miracles of the sun 
Into a temperate furnace ; teach dull nature 
What her own forces are. A man, the emperor 
Has courted above Kelly ^ ; sent his medals 
And chains to invite him. 

Dol. Ay, and for his physic, sir, 

1 That is, astrology and alchemy. 

2 Edward Kelly, or Talbot, a notorious impostor of the sixteenth century, 
*was born at Worcester, and apprenticed to an apothecary. Being con- 
victed of fraud, his ears were cut off. Dee, another alchemist, took Kelly 
and Zaski, a young Pole, abroad. Kelly pretended to have discovered the 
philosopher's stone, and was patronized by the Emperor Rudolf H, who 
entertained him at Prague for a long time. But as the stone did not mate- 
rialize, Kelly and his accomplices were thrown into prison. In attempting 
to escape, Kelly broke his leg, and died. Gifford remarks that this fraudu- 
lent trio — Kelly, Dee, and Zaski — may have suggested Subtle, Face, and 
Dol, to Jonson. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 203 

Mam. Above the art of ^^sculapius, 
That drew the envy of the Thunderer ! 120 

I know all this, and more. 

Dol. Troth, I am taken, sir, 
Whole with these studies, that contemplate nature. 

Mam. It is a noble humour ; but this form 
Was not intended to so dark a use. 
Had you been crooked, foul, of some coarse mould, 
A cloister had done well ; but such a feature 
That might stand up the glory of a kingdom, 
To live recluse, is a mere solecism. 

Though in a nunnery. It must not be. 130 

I muse, my lord your brother will permit it : 
You should spend half my land first, were I he. 
Does not this diamond better on my finger 
Than in the quarry? 

Dol. Yes. 

Mam. Why, you are like it. 
You were created, lady, for the light. § 

Here, you shall wear it ; take it, the first pledge 
Of what I speak, to bind you to believe me. 

Dol. In chains of adamant? 140 

Ma7n. Yes, the strongest bands. 
And take a secret too — here, by your side, 
Doth stand this hour the happiest man in Europe. 

Dol. You are contented, sir? 

Mam. Nay, in true being. 
The envy of princes and the fear of states. 

Dol. Say you so. Sir Epicure ? 

Mam. Yes, and thou shalt prove it, 
Daughter of honour. I have cast mine eye 
Upon thy form, and I will rear this beauty 150 



204 THE ALCHEMIST. [act iv. 

Above all styles. 

DoL You mean no treason, sir ? 

Mam. No, I will take away that jealousy. 
I am the lord of the philosopher's stone, 
And thou the lady. 

DoL How sir ! Have you that ? 

Mun. I am the "master of the mastery.-^ 
This day the good old wretch here o' the house 
Has made it for us ; now he's at projection. 
Think therefore thy first wnsh now, let me hear it, i6o 

And it shall rain into thy lap, no shower. 
But floods of gold, whole cataracts, a deluge, 
To get a nation on thee. 

DoL You are pleased, sir. 
To work on the ambition of our sex. 

Mam. I am pleased the glory of her sex should know 
This nook, here, of the Friars is no climate 
For her to live obscurely in, to learn 
Physic and sungery, for the constable's w^ife 
Of some odd hundred in Essex ; but come forth 170 

And taste the air of palaces ; eat, drink 
The toils of empirics, and their boasted practice ; 
Tincture of pearl and coral, gold and amber ; 
Be seen at feasts and triumphs ; have it asked, 
What miracle she is ; set all the eyes 
Of court a-fire, like a burning glass, 
And work them into cinders, when the jewels 
Of twenty states adorn thee, and the light 
Strikes out the stars ! that when thy name is mentioned 
Queens may look pale ; and we but showing our love, 180 
Nero's Poppaea may be lost in story ! 

1 Magisterium. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 205 

Thus will we have it. 

DoL I could well consent sir. 
But in a monarchy how will this be ? 
The prince will soon take notice, and both seize 
You and your stone, it being a wealth unfit 
For any private subject. 

Mam. If he knew it. 

Dol. Yourself do boast it, sir. 

Mam. To thee, my hfe. 190 

Dol. Oh, but beware, sir ! you may come to end 
The remnant of your days in a loathed prison, 
By speaking of it. 

Mam. 'Tis no idle fear : 
We'll therefore go withal, my girl, and live 
In a free state, where we will eat our mullets 
Soused in high-country wines, sup pheasants' eggs, 
And have our cockles boiled in silver shells ; 
Our shrimps to swim again, as when they liv^d. 
In a rare butter made of dolphins' milk, 200 

Whose cream does look like opals : and with these 
Delicate meats, set ourselves high for pleasure. 
And take us down again, and then renew 
Our youth and strength with drinking the elixir, 
And so enjoy a perpetuity 

Of life and lust ! And thou shalt have thy wardrobe 
Richer than nature's, still to change thyself. 
And vary oftener, for thy pride, than she. 
Or art, her wise and almost-equal servant. 

Re-enter Face. 

Face. Sir, you are too loud. I hear you every word 210 
Into the laboratory. Some fitter place ; 



2o6 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT IV. 

The garden or great chamber above. How Hke you her ? 

Mflm. Excellent ! Lungs. There's for thee. 

{Gives him money. 

Face. But do you hear? 
Good sir, beware, no mention of the rabbins. 

Mam. We think not on 'em. \_Exeunt Mam. and Dol. 

Face. Oh, it is well, sir. — Subtle ! 

Enter Subtle. 

Dost thou not laugh ? 

Sub. Yes ; are they gone ? 

Face. All's clear. 220 

Sub. The widow is come. 

Face. And your quarrelling disciple ? 

Sub. Ay. 

Face. I must to my captainship again, then. 

Sub. Stay, bring them in first. 

Face. So I meant. What is she ? 
A bonnibel ? 

Sub. I know not. 

Face. We'll draw lots : 
You'll stand to that? 230 

Sub. What else? 

Face. Oh, for a suit, 
To fall now like a curtain, flap ! 

Sub. To the door, man. 

Face. You'll have the first kiss, 'cause I am not ready. 

{Exit. 

Sub. Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrils. 

Face {within^. Who would you speak with? 

Kas. {within). Where's the captain? 

Face {within^. Gone, sir, 



SCENE L] THE ALCHEMIST. 207 

About some business. 240 

Kas. {within) . Gone ! 

Face {withiti). He'll return straight. 
But Master Doctor, his lieutenant, is here. 

Enter K astril, followed by Dame Plunt. 

Sub. Come near, my worshipful boy, my terrcefiU^ 
That is, my boy of land ; make thy approaches : 
Welcome ; I know thy lusts and thy desires, 
And I will serve and satisfy them. Begin, 
Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line ; 
Here is my centre : ground thy quarrel. 

Kas. You lie. 250 

Sub. How, child of wrath and anger ! the loud lie ? 
For what, my sudden boy? 

Kas. Nay, that look you to, 
I am aforehand. 

Sub. Oh, this is no true grammar. 
And as ill logic ! You must render causes, child, 
Your first and second intentions, know your canons 
And your divisions, moods, degrees, and differences. 
Your predicaments, substance, and accident. 
Series, extern and intern, with their causes, 260 

Efficient, material, formal, final. 
And have your elements perfect? 

Kas. {aside). What is this ! 
The angry tongue he talks in? 

Sub. That false precept 
Of being aforehand has deceived a number. 
And made them enter quarrels, oftentimes 
Before they were aware ; and afterward 
Against their wills. 



208 THE ALCHEMIST. [act iv. 

Kas. How must I do then, sir? 270 

Sub. I cry this lady mercy : she should first 
Have been saluted. {Kisses her.) I do call you lady, 
Because you are to be one ere't be long, 
My soft and buxom widow. 

Kas. Is she, i' faith? 

Sub. Yes, or my art is an egregious liar. 

Kas. How know you ? 

Sub. By inspection on her forehead, 
And subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted 
Often, to make a judgment. {Kisses her again.) 

'Shght, she melts 280 

Like a myrobolane ^ : — here is yet a line. 
In rivo frontis , tells me he is no knight. 

Dajne P. What is he then, sir? 

Sub. Let me see your hand. 
Oh, your line a for tun ce makes it plain; 
And Stella here in Monte Veneris. 
But, most oi 2i\\,junctura annularis? 
He is a soldier, or a man of art, lady. 
But shall have some great honour shortly. 

Dame P. Brother, 290 

He's a rare man, believe me ! 

Re-enter Face in his uniform. 

Kas. Hold your peace. 
Here comes the t'other rare man. — Save you, captain. 

Face. Good Master Kastril ! Is this yoor sister? 

Kas. Ay, sir. 
Please you to kuss her, and be proud to know her. 

Face. I shall be proud to know you, lady. \^Kisses her. 

1 A dried plum. 2 See Subtle's speech, p. 138. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 209 

Dame P. Brother, 
He calls me lady too. 

Kas. Ay, peace : I heard it. \_Takes her aside. 300 

Face, The count is come. 

Sub. Where is he? 

Face. At the door. 

Sub. Why, you must entertain him. 

Face. What will you do 
With these the while? 

Sub. Why, have them up, and show them 
Some fustian book, or the dark glass. 

Face. 'Fore God, 
She is a dehcate dab-chick ^ ! I must have her. \_Fxif. 310 

Sub. Must you ! ay, if your fortune will, you must. — 
Come, sir, the captain will come to us presently : 
I'll have you to my chamber of demonstrations. 
Where I will show you both the grammar and logic 
And rhetoric of quarrelling ; my whole method 
Drawn out in tables ; and my instrument. 
That hath the several scales upon't, shall make you 
Able to quarrel at a straw's-breadth by moonlight. 
And, lady, I'll have you look in a glass. 
Some half an hour, but to clear your eyesight, 320 

x\gainst you see your fortune ; which is greater 
Than I may judge upon the sudden, trust me. 

\^Exit, followed by Kas. ««^Dame P. 

Re-enter Face. 

Face. Where are you, doctor? 

Sub. {within). I'll come to you presently. 

1 Small waterfowl. 



2IO THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT IV. 

Face. I will have this same widow, now I have seen her, 
On any composition. 

Re-enter Subtle. 

Sub. What do you say? 

Face. Have you disposed of them ? 

Sub. I have sent them up. 

Face. Subtle, in troth, I needs must have this widow. 330 

Sub. Is that the matter? 

Face. Nay, but hear me. 

Sub. Go to, 
If you rebel once, Dol shall know it all : 
Therefore be quiet, and obey your chance. 

Face. Nay, thou art so violent now. Do but conceive 
Thou art old and canst not serve 

Sub. Who cannot? I? 
'Slight, I will serve her with thee, for a 

Face. Nay, 340 

But understand : I'll give you composition. 

Sub. I will not treat with thee : what ! sell my fortune ? 
'Tis better than my birthright. Do not murmur : 
Win her, and carry her. If you grumble, Dol 
Knows it directly. 

Face. Well, sir, I am silent. 
Will you go help to fetch in Don in state ? \^Exit. 

Sub. I follow you, sir : we must keep Face in awe, 
Or he will overlook us like a tyrant. 

Re-e7iter Face, introducing Surley disguised as a Spaniard. 

Brain of a tailor ! who comes here ? Don John ^ ! 350 

1 Don John of Austria, hero of the battle of Lepanto in 1571 ; he was 
often represented in tapestries in Jonson's time. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 211 

Sur. SeTiores, beso las manos a vuestras mercedes} 

Sud. Stab me : I shall never hold, man. 
He looks in that deep ruff like a head in a platter, 
Served in by a short cloak upon two trestles. 

Face. Or, what do you say to a collar of brawn, cut 
down 
Beneath the souse,- and wriggled with a knife ? 

Sub. 'Slud, he does look too fat to be a Spaniard. 

Face. Perhaps some Fleming or some Hollander got 
him 
In D 'Alva's time ; Count Egmont's bastard.^ 

Si/b. Don, 360 

Your scurvy, yellow, Madrid face is welcome. 

Sur. Gratia. 

Sub. He speaks out of a fortification. 
Pray God he have no squibs in those deep sets.* 

Sur. For dios, seTiores, rnuy linda casa!^ 

Sub. What says he ? 

Face. Praises the house, I think ; 
I know no more but's action. 

Sub. Yes, the casa^ 
My precious Diego will prove fair enough 370 

To cozen you in. Do you mark? You shall 
Be cozened, Diego. 

Face. Cozened, do you see, 
My worthy Donzel, cozened. 

Sur. Entiendo^ 

1 Usual Spanish salutation ; " Gentlemen, I kiss your hands." 

2 Ear. 

3 Alva, the atrocious Spanish governor of the Netherlands, from 1567 to 
1573. who put to death Egmont, a Flemish noble, in 1568. 

4 Plaits in his ruff. 

5 " Gad, sirs, a very pretty house." 6 " i understand." 



212 THE ALCHEMIST. [act iv. 

Sub. Do you intend it? So do we, dear Don. 
Have you brought pistolets ^ or portagues, 
My solemn Don? — Dost thou feel any? 

Face {feels his pockets). Full. 

Sub. You shall be emptied, Don, pumped and drawn 380 
Dry, as they say. 

Face. Milked, in troth, sweet Don. 

Sub. See all the monsters ; the great lion of all, Don. 

Sur. Con liceftcia, se puede ver a esta seTiora ?'^ 

Sub. What talks he now? 

Face. Of the senora. 

Sub. Oh, Don, 
That is the honess, which you shall see 
Also, my Don. 

Face. 'Slid, Subtle, how shall we do ? 390 

Sub. For what? 

Face. Why Dol's employed, you know. 

Sub. That's true, 
'Fore heaven I know not : he must stay, that's all. 

Face. Stay ! that he must not by no means. 

Sub. No! Why? 

Face. Unless you'll mar all. 'Slight, he will suspect it : 
And then he will not pay, not half so well. 
This is a travelled master, and does know 
All the delays ; a notable hot rascal, 400 

And looks already rampant. 

Sub. 'Sdeath, and Mammon must not be troubled. 

Face. Mammon ! in no case. 

Sub. What shall we do then ? 

Face. Think : you must be sudden. 

1 Coins. 2 " If you please, may I see the lady ? " 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 213 

Su7: Entiendo que la senora es tan he?'mosa, que codicio 
tail verla, conio la bien aventuranqa de mi vida} 

Face. Mi vida ! 'Slid, Subtle, he puts me in mind o' the 
widow. 
What dost thou say to draw her to it, ha ! 
And tell her 'tis her fortune ? All our venture 410 

Now Kes upon't. It is but one man more, 
Which of us chance to have her : and beside, — 
What dost thou think on't. Subtle ? 

Sub. Who, I ? Why 

Face. The credit of our house too is engaged. 

Sub. You made me an offer for my share erewhile. 
What wilt thou give me i' faith ? 

Face. Oh, by that light 
I'll not buy now : you know your doom to me. 
E'en take your lot, obey your chance, sir ; win her, 420 

And wea^ her out, for me. 

Sub. 'Slight, I'll not have her then. 

Face. It is the common cause ; therefore bethink you. 
Dol else must know it as you said. 

Sub. I care not. 

Sur. Senores, porque se tarda tanto?^ 

Sub. Faith, I am not fit, I am old. 

Face. That's now no reason, sir. 

Sur. Puede ser, de hacer burla de mi amor ?^ 

Face. You hear the Don too ? by this air I call, 430 

And loose the hinges : Dol ! 

Sub. A plague of hell 

Face, Will you then do? 

1 " I hear the lady is so handsome, that I am eager to see her, as the 
best fortune of my life." 

2 " Why this long delay, sirs ? " 

3 " Can it be to make sport of my love ? " 



214 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT IV. 

Sub. You are a terrible rogue ! 
I'll think of this : will you, sir, call the widow? 

Face. Yes, and I'll take her too with all her faults, 
Now I do think on't better. 

Sub. With all my heart, sir ; 
Am I discharged o' the lot? 

Face. As you please. 440 

Sub. Hands. [^They take hands. 

Face. Remember now, that upon any change 
You never claim her. 

Sub. Much good joy and health to you, sir. 
Marry her so ! Fate, let me wed a witch first. 

Sur. For estas honradas bai'bas ^ 

Sub. He swears by his beard. 
Dispatch, and call the brother too. \_Exit Face. 

Sur. Tengo duda, senores, que no me hagan alguna 
traycion? ^ 450 

Sub. How, issue on? yes, presto, senor. Please you 
Fnthratha the chambratha, worthy Don : 
Where if you please the fates, in your bathada. 
You shall be soaked, and stroked, and tubbed, and rubbed, 
And scrubbed, and fubbed, dear Don, before you go. 
You shall in faith, my scurvy baboon Don, 
Be curried, clawed, and flawed, and tawed indeed. 
I will the heartilier go about it now. 
And make the widow yours so much the sooner. 
To be revenged on this impetuous Face : 460 

The quickly doing of it is the grace. 

\_Exeunt Sub. and Surly.^ 

1 " By these honored beards." 

2 " I suspect, sirs, that you arc playing a trick on me." 

8 " The Spanish speeches smack of a Conversation Book. Jonson seems 
to have borro-wed this device from Plautus, in Pcsnulus." — Gifford. 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 215 

Scene II. — Another Room in the same. 
Enter Face, Kastril, and Dame Pliant. 

Face. Come, lady : I knew the doctor would not leave 
Till he had found the very nick of her fortune. 

Kas. To be a countess, say you, a Spanish countess, sir? 

Dame P. Why, is that better than an English countess ? 

Face, Better ! 'Slight, make you that a question, lady?^ 

Kas. Nay, she is a fool, captain, you must pardon her. 

Face. Ask from your courtier, to your Inns-of-Court man, 
To your mere milliner ; they will tell you all. 
Your Spanish gennet is the best horse ; your Spanish 
Stoup- is the best garb ; your Spanish beard 10 

Is the best cut ; your Spanish ruffs are the best 
Wear; your Spanish pavin^ the best dance ; 
Your Spanish titillation in a glove 
The best perfume : and for your Spanish pike 
And Spanish blade, let your poor captain speak — 
Here comes the doctor. 

Enter Subtle, with a paper. 

Sub. My most honoured lady, 
For so I am now to style you, having found 
By this my scheme you are to undergo 
An honourable fortune very shortly, 20 

What will you say now, if some 

Face. I have told her all, sir ; 
And her right worshipful brother here, that she shall be 

1 In the early years of James I's reign, Spanish influence and Spanish 
fashions were paramount in English court society. 

2 No commentator nor dictionary explains this word. 

8 Tci^pavane, a grave and stately dance, so called from the city of Pavia. 



2l6 



THE ALCHEMIST. 



[act IV. 



A countess ; do not delay them, sir : a Spanish countess. 

Sub. Still, my scarce-worshipful captain, you can keep 
No secret ! Well, since he has told you, madam. 
Do you forgive him, and I do. 

Kas. She shall do that, sir ; 
I'll look to't, 'tis my charge. 

Sub. Well then ; nought rests 
But that she fit her love now to her fortune. 

Dame P. Truly, I shall never brook a Spaniard. 

Sub. No ! 

Dame P. Never since eighty-eight^ could I abide them. 
And that was some three years afore I was born, in truth. 

Sub. Come, you must love him, or be miserable ; 
Choose which you will. 

Face. By this good rush, persuade her. 

Kas. Ods lid, you shall love him, or I'll kick you. 

Dame P. Why, 
I'll do as you will have me, brother. 

Kas. Do, 
Or by this hand I'll maul you. 

Face. Nay, good sir. 
Be not so fierce. 

Sub. No, my enraged child ; 
She will be ruled. What, when she comes to taste 
The pleasures of a countess ! to be courted 

Face. And kissed, and then come forth in pomp. 

Sub. And know her state ! 

Face. Of keeping all the idolators of the chamber 
Barer to her than at their prayers ! 

Sub. Is served 
Upon the knee ! 

1 1588 ; when the English defeated the Spanish Armada. 



30 



40 



50 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 2 1 7 

Face, And has her pages, ushers, 
Footmen, and coaches 

Sub. Her six mares 

Face. Nay, eight ! 

Sub. To hurry her through London, to the Exchange, 
Bethlem,^ the china-houses 60 

Face. Yes, and have 
The citizens gape at her, and praise her tires, 
And my lord's humble bands, that ride with her. 

Kas. Most brave ! By this hand, you are not my suster 
If you refuse. 

Dame P. I will not refuse, brother. 

Enter Surly. 

Sur. Que es esfo, senores, que 11071 venga ? Esta tardanza 
me mata I ^ 

Face. It is the Count come : 
The doctor knew he would be here, by his art. 70 

Sub. En gallanta madama^ Don ! gallantissima ! 

Sur. For iodos los dioses, la mas acabada hermosura, 
que he vis to en mi vida / ^ 

Face. Is't not a gallant language that they speak? 

Kas. An admirable language ! Is't not French ? 

Face. No, Spanish, sir. 

Kas. It goes like law-French, 
And that, they say, is the courtliest language. 

Face. List, sir. 

Sur. El sol ha perdido su luf?ibre, con el esplandor que 
trae esta dama ! Valgame dios /^ 81 

1 Bedlam, the madhouse. 

2 " Why doesn't she come, sirs? This delay kills me." 

3 " By all the gods, the most perfect beauty I ever saw ! " 

4 " The sun has lost its light, from the splendor this lady brings." 



2l8 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT TV, 

Face. He admires your sister. 

Kas, Must not she make curtsey? 

Sub, Ods will, she must go to him, man, and kiss him ! 
It is the Spanish fashion for the women 
To make first court. 

Face. 'Tis true he tells you, sir : 
His art knows all. 

Sur. Porque no se acude ?^ 

Kas. He speaks to her, I think. 90 

Face. That he does, sir. 

Su7'. For el amor de dios, que es esto que se tarda ? ^ 

Kas. Nay, see : she will not understand him ! Gull, 
Noddy.^ 

Dame P. What say you, brother? 

Kas. Ass, my suster. 
Go kuss him, as the cunning man would have you ; 
I'll thrust a pin in you else. 

Face. Oh no, sir. 

Sur. SeTiora mia, mi persona esta muy indigna de allegar 
a tanta he7-niosura^ loi 

Face. Does he not use her bravely? 

Kas. Bravely, i' faith ! 

Face. Nay, he will use her better. 

Kas. Do you think so? 

Sur. Senora, si sera servida entremojios'"' 

\^Exit with Dame Pliant. 

Kas. Where does he carry her ? 

Face, Into the garden, sir ; 

1 " Why don't you obey ? " 

2 " Why this delay ? " 3 Simpleton. 

4 " Madam, I am very unworthy to approach such beauty." 

5 " Madam, you shall be obeyed ; let us enter." 



SCENE 111.] THE ALCHEMIST. 219 

Take you no thought ; I must interpret for her. 

Sub. {aside to Face, who goes out) . Give Dol the word.^ 
— Come, my fierce child, advance, no 

We'll to our quarreUing lesson again. 

Kas. Agreed. 
I love a Spanish boy with all my heart. 

Sub. Nay, and by this means, sir, you shall be brother 
To a great count. 

Kas. Ay, I knew that at first. 
This match will advance the house of the Kastrils. 

Sub. Pray God your sister prove but pliant ! 

Kas. Why, 
Her name is so, by her other husband. 120 

Sub. How? 

Kas. The Widow Pliant. Knew you not that? 

Sub. No, faith, sir ; 
Yet, by erection of her figure, I guessed it. 
Come, let's go practise. . 

Kas. Yes, but do you think, doctor, 
I e'er shall quarrel well ? 

Sub. I warrant you. [^Exeunt. 



Scene HI. — Another Room in the same. 

Enter Dol in her fit of raving, followed by Mammon. 

Dol. For after Alexander's death 

Mam. Good lady 



Dol. That Perdiccas and Antigonus were slain, 

The two that stood, Seleuc', and Ptolemy 

Mam. Madam. 

1 To begin her counterfeit frenzy. 



2 20 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT IV. 

Dol. Made up the two legs, and the fourth beast, 
That was Gog-north and Egypt-south : which after 
Was called Gog-iron-leg and South-iron-leg 

Mam. Lady 

Dol. And then Gog-horned. So was Egypt too : lo 

Then Egypt-clay-leg and Gog-clay-leg 

Mam. Sweet madam 

Dol. And last Gog-dust and Egypt-dust, which fall 
In the last link of the fourth chain. And these 
Be stars in story, which none see or look at 

Mam. What shall I do? 

Dol. For, as he says, except 
We call the rabbins, and the heathen Greeks 

Mam. Dear lady 

Dol. To come from Salem and from Athens, 20 

And teach the people of Great Britain 

Enter Face, hastily, in his Servant's di-ess. 

Face. What's the matter, sir? 

Dol. To speak the tongue of Eber and Javan 

Mam. Oh, 
She's in her fit. 

Dol. We shall know nothing 

Face. Death, sir, 
We are undone ! 

Dol. Where then a learned linguist 
Shall see the ancient used communion 30 

Of vowels and consonants 

Face. My master will hear ! 

Dol. A wisdom which Pythagoras held most high 

Mam. Sweet honourable lady ! 

DoL To comprise 



SCENE III.] THE ALCHEMIST. 221 

All sounds of voices, in few marks of letters 



Face. Nay, you must never hope to lay her now. 

\_They all speak. 

Dol. And so we may arrive by Talmud skill 
And profane Greek, to raise the building up 
Of Helen's house against the Ishmaehte, 40 

King of Thogarma, and his habergions 
Brimstony, blue, and fiery ; and the force 
Of King Abaddon, and the beast of Cittim : 
Which Rabbi David Kimchi, Onkelos, 
And Aben Ezra do interpret Rome. 

Face. How did you put her into't ? 

Mam. Alas ! I talked 
Of a fifth monarchy I would erect. 
With the philosopher's stone, by chance, and she 
Falls on the other four straight.^ 50 

Face. Out of Broughton ! 
I told you so. 'Slid, stop her mouth. 

Main. Is't best? 

Face. She'll never leave else. If the old man hear her 

Sub. {within). What's to do there? 

Face. Oh, we are lost ! Now she hears him, she is quiet. 

Enter Subtle ; they run different ivays. 

Mam. Where shall I hide me ! 

Sub. How ! what sight is here ? 
Close deeds of darkness, and that shun the light ! 
Bring him again. Who is he ? What, my son ? 60 

Oh, I have lived too long. 

1 From Broughton's Concert of Scripture. Broughton was educated by 
Bernard Gilpin, and sent by him to Cambridge. Later, he quitted the 
Church of England and joined the Brownists at Amsterdam ; died in 1612, 



2 22 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT IV. 

Mam. Nay, good, dear father, 
There was no evil purpose. 

Sub. Not ! and flee me, 
When I come in? 

Mam. That was my error. 

Sub. Error ! 
Guilt, guilt, my son : give it the right name. No marvel 
If I found check in our great work within, 
When such affairs as these were managing. 70 

Ma?n. Why, have you so? 

Sub. It has stood still this half-hour : 
And all the rest of our less works gone back. 
Where is the instrument of wickedness, 
My lewd false drudge ? 

Mam. Nay, good sir, blame not him ; 
Believe me, 'twas against his will or knowledge : 
I saw her by chance. 

Stcb. Will you commit more sin. 
To excuse a varlet? 80 

Mam. By my hope, 'tis true, sir. 

Sub. Nay, then I wonder less, if you, for whom 
The blessing was prepared, would so tempt heaven, 
And lose your fortunes. 

Mam. Why, sir? 

Sub. This will retard 
The work a month at least. 

Mam. Why, if it do. 
What remedy ? But think it not, good father : 
Our purposes were honest. 90 

Sub. As they were, 
So the reward will prove — \_A loud explosion within. 

• How now ! Ah me ! 



SCENE III.] THE ALCHEMIST. 223 

God and all saints be good to us. 

Re-e7iter Face. 

What's that? 

Face. Oh, sir, we are defeated ! All the works 
Are flown infumo, every glass is burst : 
Furnace and all rent down ; as if a bolt 
Of thunder had been driven through the house. 
Retorts, receivers, pelicans, bolt-heads, 
All struck in shivers ! [SuBTLEy^Z/j- down as in a swoon. 

Help, good sir ! Alas, 
Coldness and death invades him. Nay, Sir Mammon, 
Do the fair offices of a man ! You stand 100 

As you were readier to depart than he. \_Knocking within. 
Who's there? My lord her brother is come. 

Mam. Ha, Lungs ! 

Face. His coach is at the door. Avoid his sight, 
For he's as furious as his sister's mad. 

Mam. Alas ! 

Face. My brain is quite undone with fume, sir, 
I ne'er must hope to be mine own man again. 

Mam. Is all lost. Lungs? Will nothing be preserved 
Of all our cost? no 

Face. Faith, very little, sir ; 
A peck of coals or so, which is cold comfort, sir. 

Mam. Oh, my voluptuous mind ! I am justly punished. 

Face. And so am I, sir. 

Mam. Cast forth from all my hopes 

Face. Nay, certainties, sir. 

Mam. By mine own base affections. 

Sud. {see}?iing to come to himself^ . Oh, the curst fruits of 
vice and lust ! 



2 24 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT IV. 

Mam. Good father, 
It was my sin. Forgive it. 120 

Sub. Hangs my roof 
Over us still, and will not fall, O justice, 
Upon us, for this wicked man ! 

Face. Nay, look, sir. 
You grieve him now with staying in his sight ; 
Good sir, the nobleman will come too, and take you, 
And that may breed a tragedy. 

Mam. I'll go. 

Face. Ay, and repent at home, sir. It may be. 
For some good penance you may have it yet ; 130 

A hundred pound to the box at Bethlem 

Mam. Yes. 

Face. For the restoring such as have their wits. 

Mam. I'll do't. 

Face. I'll send one to you to receive it. 

Mam. Do. 
Is no projection left? 

Face. All flown, or stinks, sir. 

Mam. Will nought be saved that's good for med'cine, 
think'st thou ? 

Face. I cannot tell, sir. There will be perhaps 140 

Something about the scraping of the shards 
Will cure the itch — {aside) though not your itch of mind, 

sir. 
It shall be saved for you, and sent home. Good sir. 
This way for fear the lord should meet you. 

\_Exit Mammon. 

Sub. {raising his head). Face 1 

Face. Ay. 

Sub. Is he gone ? 



SCENE IV.] THE ALCHEMIST. 225 

Face. Yes, and as heavily 
As all the gold he hoped for were in's blood. 
Let us be light, though. 150 

Sub. {leaping up). Ay, as balls, and bound 
And hit our heads against the roof for joy : 
There's so much of our care now cast away. 

Face. Now to our Don. 

Sub. Yes, your young widow by this time 
Is made a countess. Face. 

Face. Good, sir. 

Sub. Off with your case, 
And greet her kindly, as a bridegroom should, 
After these common hazards. 160 

Face. Very well, sir. 
Will you go fetch Don Diego off, the while ? 

Sub. And fetch him over too, if you'll be pleased, sir : 
Would Dol were in her place, to pick his pockets now ! 

Face. Why, you can do't as well, if you would set to't. 
I pray you prove your virtue. 

Sub. For your sake, sir. \_Fxeu21t. 



Scene IV. — Another Room in the same. 

Enter Surly and Dame Pliant. 

Sur. Lady, you see into what hands you are fallen ; 
'Mongst what a nest of villains ! and how near 
Your honour was to have catched a certain flaw, 
Through your credulity, had I but been 
So punctually forward, as place, time. 
And other circumstances would have made a man ; 
For you're a handsome woman : would you were wise too ! 



2 26 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT IV. 

I am a gentleman come here disguised, 

Only to find the knaveries of this citadel ; 

And where I might have wronged your honour, and have not, 

I claim some interest in your love. You are, n 

They say-, a widow, rich ; and I'm a bachelor. 

Worth nought : your fortunes may make me a man. 

As mine have preserved you a woman. Think upon it, 

And whether I have deserved you or no. 

Dame P. I will, sir. 

Sur. And for these household rogues, let me alone 
To treat with them. 

Enter Subtle. 

Sub. How doth my noble Diego, 
And my dear Madam Countess ? Hath the Count 20 

Been courteous, lady? Hberal and open? 
Donzel, methinks you look melancholic 
After your interview, and scurvy : truly 
I do not like the dulness of your eye ; 
It hath a heavy cast, 'tis upsee Dutch,^ 
And says you are a lumpish cavalier. 
Be lighter, I will make your pockets so. 

[Attempts to pick tliem. 

Sur. {thj'ows ope7i his cloak). Will you, Don Bawd and 
Pick-purse? {Strikes him down.) How now ! Reel 
you? 
Stand up, sir ; you shall find, since I am so heavy, 
I'll give you equal vveight. 30 

Sub. Help ! murder ! 

Sur. No, sir, 

1 From the Dutch opzee, over sea. A thick Dutch beer was much drunk 
in England. 



SCENE IV.] THE ALCHEMIST. 227 

There's no such thing intended : a good cart 
And a clean whip shall ease you of that fear. 
I am the Spanish Don that should be cozetCd — 
Do you see, cozen' d / Where's your Captain Face, 
That parcel broker, and whole-bawd, all rascal ! 

Enter Face iii his tmiform. 

Face, How, Surly ! 

Sur. Oh, make your approach, good captain. 
I have found from whence your copper rings and spoons 40 
Come, now, wherewith you cheat abroad in taverns. 
'Twas here you learned t' anoint your boot with brimstone. 
Then rub men's gold on't for a kind of g)uch, 
And say 'twas nought, when you had changed the colour, 
That you might have 't for nothing. And this doctor, 
Your sooty, smoky-bearded compeer, he 
Will close you so much gold, in a bolt's-head, 
And, on a turn, convey in the stead another 
With sublimed mercury, that shall burst in the heat. 
And fly out all mfumo! Then weeps Mammon ; 50 

Then swoons his worship. (Face slips out.) Or, he is the 

Faustus 
That casteth figures and can conjure, cures 
Plagues, piles, and pox, by the ephemerides,^ 
And holds intelligence while you send in — 
Captain — what ! is he gone ? 

\_Seizes Subtle as he is retiring. 
Nay, you must tarry, 
Though he be 'scaped, and answer by the ears, sir. 

Re-enter Face with Kastril. 

Face. Why, now's the time, if ever you will quarrel 

1 Astronomical almanacs. 



228 THE ALCHEMIST. [act iv. 

Well, as they say, and be a true-born child : 
The doctor and your sister both are abused. 

Kas. Where is he ? Which is he ? He is a slave, 60 

Whate'er he is, and he must answer me. — Are you 
The man, sir, I would know? 

Sur. I should be loth, sir. 
To confess so much. 

Kas. Then you lie in your throat. 

Sur. How ! 

Face {to Kastril). A very errant rogue, sir, and a cheater. 
Employed here by another conjurer. 
That does not love the doctor, and would cross him 
If he knew how. ♦ 70 

Sur. Sir, you are abused. 

Kas. You He ; 
And 'tis no matter. 

Face. Well said, sir ! He is 
The impudentest rascal 

Sur. You are indeed : will you hear me, sir ? 

Face. By no means : bid him begone. 

Kas. Begone, sir, quickly. 

Sur. This is strange ! — Lady, do you inform your brother. 

Face. There is not such a foist ^ in all the town, 80 

The doctor had him presently ; and finds yet 
The Spanish count will come here. {Aside) Bear up. 
Subtle. 

Sub. Yes, sir, he must appear within this hour. 

Face. And yet this rogue would come in a disguise, 
By the temptation of another spirit. 
To trouble our art, though he could not hurt it ! 

Kas. Ay, 

1 Cheating rogue. 



SCENE IV.] THE ALCHEMIST. 229 

I know — Away — {to his sister) — you talk like a foolish 
mauther.^ 

Siir. Sir, all is truth she says. 

Face. Do not beHeve him, sir. 90 

He is the lyingest swabber ! Come your ways, sir. 

Sur. You are vuliant out of company ! 

Kas. Yes ; how then, sir. 

Enter Drugger with a piece of damask. 

Face. Nay, here's an honest fellow too, that knows him 
And all his tricks. {Aside to Drug.) Make good what I say, 

Abel; 
This cheater would have cozened thee o' the widow. 
He owes this honest Drugger here, seven pound, 
He has had on him, in twopen'orths of tobacco. 

Drug. Yes, sir. 
And he has damned himself three terms to pay me. 100 

Face. And what does he owe for lotium ? 

Drug. Thirty shillings, sir ; 
And for six syringes. 

Sur. Hydra of villainy ! 

Face. Nay, sir ; you must quarrel him out o' the house. 

Kas. I will : 
— Sir, if you get not out o' doors, you he ! 
And you are a pimp. 

Sur. Why, this is madness, sir. 
Not valour in you ; I must laugh at this. no 

Kas. It is my humour ; you are a pimp and a trig, 
And an Amadis de Gaul or a Don Quixote. 

Drug. Or a knight o' the curious coxcomb, do you see ? 

1 An awkward, rustic woman ; the term is still used in Norfolkshire. 



230 THE ALCHEMIST. [act iv. 

Enter Ananias. 

Ana. Peace to the household ! 

Kas. I'll keep peace for no man. 

A7ia. Casting of dollars is concluded lawful. 

Kas. Is he the constable ? 

Sub. Peace, Ananias. 

Face. No, sir. 

Kas. Then you are an otter, a shad, a whit, a very tim. 120 

Sur. You'll hear me, sir ? 

Kas. I will not. 

Ana. What is the motive ? 

Sub, Zeal in the young gentleman 
Against his Spanish slops. 

Ana. They are profane, 
Lewd, superstitious, and idolatrous breeches. 

Sur. New rascals ! 

Kas. Will you begone, sir? 

Ana. Avoid, Satan ! 130 

Thou art not of the light : that ruff of pride 
About thy neck betrays thee ; and is the same 
With that which the unclean birds, in seventy-seven,^ 
Were seen to prank it w4th on divers coasts : 
Thou look'st like Antichrist, in that lewd hat. 

Sur. I must give way. 

Kas. Begone, sir. 

Sur. But I'll take 
A course with you 

Ana. Depart, proud Spanish fiend ! 140 

Sur. Captain and Doctor. 

Ana. Child of perdition ! 

1 Probably refers to depredations of Spaniards, but in what localities is 
not clear. 



SCENE IV.] THE ALCHEMIST. 231 

Kas. Hence, sir ! \^Exit Surly. 

Did I not quarrel bravely? 

Face. Yes, indeed, sir. 

Kas. Nay, and I give my mind to't, I shall do't. 

Face. Oh, you must follow, sir, and threaten him tame : 
He'll turn again else. 

Kas. I'll re-turn him then. \^Exif. 

[Subtle takes Ananias aside. 

Face. Drugger, this rogue prevented us for thee : 150 

We had determined that thou should 'st have come 
In a Spanish suit, and have carried her so ; and he, 
A brokerly slave ! goes, puts it on himself. 
Hast brought the damask? 

Drug. Yes, sir. 

Face. Thou must borrow 
A Spanish suit : hast thou no credit with the players ? 

Drug. Yes, sir ; did you never see me play the fool ? 

Face. I know not. Nab : — {aside) Thou shalt, if I can 
help it. — 
Hieronymo's ^ old cloak, ruff, and hat will serve ; 160 

I'll tell thee more when thou bring'st 'em. \^Exii Drugger. 

Ana. Sir, I know 
The Spaniard hates the brethren, and hath spies 
Upon their actions : and that this was one 
I make no scruple. — But the holy synod 
Have been in prayer and meditation for it ; 
And 'tis revealed, no less to them than me, 
That casting of money is most lawful. 

Sub. True, 
But here I cannot do it ; if the house 170 

1 Chief character in Thomas Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, a play much ridi- 
culed by Elizabethan dramatists. 



232 THE ALCHEMIST. [act IV. 



n 



Should chance to be suspected, all would out, 
And we be locked up in the Tower for ever, 
To make gold there for the state, never come out ; 
And then are you defeated. 

Ana. I will tell 
This to the elders and the weaker brethren, 
That the whole company of the separation 
May join in humble prayer again. 

Sud. And fasting. 

Ana. Yea, for some fitter place. The peace of mind 180 
Rest with these walls ! [Exit. 

Sub. Thanks, courteous Ananias. 

Face. What did he come for? 

Sub. About casting dollars, 
Presently out of hand. And so I told him 
A Spanish minister came here to spy 
Against the faithful 

Face. I conceive. Come, Subtle, 
Thou art so down upon the least disaster ! 
How wouldst thou ha' done, if I had not helped thee out? 190 

Sub. I thank thee. Face, for the angry boy, i' faith. 

Face. Who would have looked it should have been that 
rascal 
Surly? he had dyed his beard and all. Well, sir, 
Here's damask come to make you a suit. 

Sub. Where's Drugger? 

Face. He is gone to borrow me a Spanish habit ; 
I'll be the count, now. 

Sub. But where's the widow? 

Face. Within, with my lord's sister ; Madam Dol 
Is entertaining her. 200 

Sub. By your favour. Face, 



SCENE IV.] THE ALCHEMIST. 233 

Now she is honest, I will stand again. 

Face. You will not offer it. 

Sub. Why? 

Face. Stand to your word, 
Or — here comes Dol, she knows 

Sub. You are tyrannous still. 

Enter Dol, hastily. 

Face. Strict for my right. — How now, Dol ! Hast [thou] 
told her, 
The Spanish Count will come ? 

Dol. Yes ; but another is come 210 

You little looked for ! 

Face. Who is that? 

Dol. Your master ; 
The master of the house. 

Sub. How, Dol ! 

Face. She lies. 
This is some trick. Come, leave your quiblins,^ Dorothy. 

Dol. Look out and see. [Face goes to the window. 

Sub. Art thou in earnest ? 

Dol. 'Slight, 220 

Forty o' the neighbours are about him, talking. 

Face. 'Tis he, by this good day. 

Dol 'Twill prove ill day 
For some on us. 

Face. We are undone, and taken. 

Dol. Lost, I'm afraid. 

Sub. You said he would not come 
While there died one a week within the liberties. 

Face. No : 'twas within the walls. 

1 Petty duplicities. 



234 THE ALCHEMIST. [act v. 

Sub. Was't so ! cry you mercy. 230 

I thought the Hberties. What shall we do now, Face ? 

Face. Be silent : not a word, if he call or knock, 
I'll into mine own shape again and meet him, 
Of Jeremy, the butler. In the meantime, 
Do you two pack up all the goods and purchase ^ 
That we can carry in the two trunks. I'll keep him 
Off for to-day, if I cannot longer : and then 
At night I'll ship you both away to Ratcliff, 
Where we will meet to-morrow, and there we'll share. 
Let Mammon's brass and pewter keep the cellar ; 240 

We'll have another time for that. But, Dol, 
Prythee go heat a little water quickly ; 
Subtle must shave me : all my captain's beard 
Must off, to make me appear smooth Jeremy. 
You'll do it? 

Sub. Yes, I'll shave you, as well as I can. 

Face. And not cut my throat, but trim me ? 

Sub. You shall see, sir.^ \_Fxeunt. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — Before Lovewit's Door. 

Enter Lovewit, with several of the Neighbours. 

Love. Has there been much resort, say you ? 
1st Nei. Daily, sir. 

1 Cant word for stolen goods. Cf. Henry V, iii, 2 : " They will steal any- 
thing and call it — purchase." 

2 " I do not believe that any scene in the whole compass of the English 
Drama is worked up with so much comic skill and knowledge of effect as 
the conclusion of this masterly act." — Gifford. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 235 

2d Net. And nightly, too. 

jd Net. Ay, some as brave as lords. 

4th Net. Ladies and gentlewomen. 

jth Net. Citizens' wives. 

1st Net. And knights. 

6th Net. In coaches. 

2d Net. Yes, and oyster women. 

1st Net. Beside other gallants. 10 

jd Net. Sailors' wives. 

4th Net. Tobacco men. 

jth Net. Another Pimlico ^ ! 

Love. What should my knave advance, 
To draw this company? He hung out no banners 
Of a strange calf with five legs to be seen, 
Or a huge lobster with six claws ? 

6th Net. No, sir. 

jd Net. We had gone in then, sir. 

Love. He has no gift 20 

Of teaching in the nose that e'er I knew of. 
You saw no bills set up that promised cure 
Of agues, or the tooth-ache ? 

2d Net. No such thing, sir. 

Love. Nor heard a drum struck for baboons or puppets ? 

^th Net. Neither, sir. 

Love. What device should he bring forth now? 
I love a teeming wit as I love my nourishment ; 
'Pray God he have not kept such open house 
That he hath sold my hangings and my bedding ! 30 

I left him nothing else. If he have eat them, 
A plague o' the moth, say I ! Sure he has got 
Some tempting pictures to call all this ging - ! 

1 A resort near Hogsden, noted for its cakes and ale. 2 Gang. 



236 THE ALCHEMIST. [act v. 

Or't may be he has the fleas that run at tilt 
Upon a table, or some dog to dance. 
When saw you him ? 

1st Nei. Who, sir, Jeremy ? 

2d Nei. Jeremy Butler? 
We saw him not this month. 

Love. How ! 4© 

4th Nei. Not these five weeks, sir. 

6th Nei. These six weeks at the least. 

Love. You amaze me, neighbours ! 

§th Nei. Sure, if your worship know not where he is, 
He's slipped away. 

6th Nei. Pray God, he be not made away. 

Love. Ha ! it's no time to question, then. 

\ Knocks at the door. 

6th Nei. About 
Some three weeks since, I heard a doleful cry, 
As I sat up a-mending my wife's stockings. 50 

Love. 'Tis strange that none will answer ! Didst thou hear 
A cry, say'st thou ? 

6th Nei. Yes, sir, like unto a man 
That had been strangled an hour, and could not speak. 

2d Nei. I heard it too, just this day three weeks, at two 
o'clock 
Next morning. 

Love. These be miracles, or you make them so. 
A man an hour strangled, and could not speak, 
And both you heard him cry? 

jd Nei. Yes, downward, sir. ' 60 

Love. Thou art a wise fellow. Give me thy hand, I pray 
thee. 
What trade art thou on? 



SCENE 1.1 THE ALCHEMIST. 237 

jd Nei. A smith, an't please your worship. 

Love. A smith ! then lend me thy help to get this door 

open. 
3d Nei. That I will presently, sir, but fetch my tools. 

{^Exit. 
1st Nei. Sir, best to knock again, afore you break it. 
Love, {knocks again) . I will. 

Enter Face, in his butler's livery. 

Face. What mean you, sir ? 

1st, 2d, 4th Nei. Oh, here's Jeremy ! 

Face. Good sir, come from the door. 70 

Love. Why, what's the matter? 

Face. Yet farther, you are too near yet. 

Love. In the name of wonder, 
What means the fellow ! 

Face. The house, sir, has been visited. 

Love. What, with the plague ? stand thou then farther. 

Face. No, sir, 
I had it not. 

Love. Who had it then ? I left 
None else but thee in the house. 80 

Face. Yes, sir, my fellow. 
The cat that kept the buttery, had it on her 
A week before I spied it ; but I got her 
Conveyed away in the night : and so I shut 
The house up for a month 

Love. How ! 

Face. Purposing then, sir, 
To have burnt rose-vinegar, treacle, and tar, 
And have made it sweet, that you should ne'er have known it ; 
Because I knew the news would but afflict you, sir. 90 



238 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT v. 

Love. Breathe less, and farther off ! Why this is stranger : 
The neighbours tell me all here that the doors 
Have still been open 

Face. How, sir ! 

Love. Gallants, men and women, 
And of all sorts, tag-rag, been seen to flock here 
In threaves,^ these ten weeks, as to a second Hogsden, 
In days of Pimlico and Eyebright.^ 

Face. Sir, 
Their wisdoms will not say so. 100 

Love. To-day they speak 
Of coaches and gallants ; one in a French hood 
Went in, they tell me ; and another was seen 
In a velvet gown at the window : divers more 
Pass in and out. 

Face. They did pass through the doors then. 
Or walls, I assure their eyesights, and their spectacles ; 
For here, sir, are the keys, and here have been. 
In this my pocket, now above twenty days : 
And for before, I kept the fort alone there. no 

But that 'tis yet not deep in the afternoon, 
I should believe my neighbours had seen double 
Through the black pot, and made these apparitions ! 
For, on my faith to your worship, for these three weeks 
And upwards the door has not been opened. 

Love. Strange ! 

I si Nei. Good faith, I think I saw a coach. 

1 Droves ; so Jonson in The Sad Shepherd: " They come in threaves, to 
frolic with him " ; so also Chapman, Ge^it Usher, Act ii, i. But Skeat says 
that the word means " a number of sheaves of wheat, generally twelve or 
twenty-four." 

2 Perhaps a cant term for a kind of malt liquor then popular. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 239 

2d Net. And I too, 
I'd have been sworn. 

Lo-je. Do you but think it now ? 120 

And but one coach ? 

4th Nei. We cannot tell, sir : Jeremy 
Is a very honest fellow. 

Face. Did you see me at all? 

1st Neir^o ; that we are sure on. 

2d Nei. I'll be sworn o' that. 

Love. Fine rogues to have your testimonies built on ! 

Re-enter Third Neighbour, with his Tools. 

jd Nei. Is Jeremy come ? 

1st Nei. Oh, yes; you may leave your tools. 
We were deceived, he says. 130 

2d Nei. He has had the keys ; 
And the door has been shut these three weeks. 

3d Nei. Like enough. 

Love. Peace and get hence, you changelings. 

Enter Surly and Mammon. 

Face {aside) . Surly come ! 
And Mammon made acquainted ! They'll tell all. 
How shall I beat them off? what shall I do? 
Nothing's more wretched than a guilty conscience.* 

Sur. No, sir, he was a great physician. This, 
It was no evil house, but a mere chancel ! 140 

You knew the lord and his sister. 

Mam. Nay, good Surly 

Sur. The happy word. Be rich 

Mam. Play not the tyrant 

1 Quoted from Plautus. 



240 THE ALCHEMIST. [act v. 

Sur. Should be to-day pronounced to all your friends. 
And where be your andirons now? and your brass pots, 
That should have been golden flagons, and great wedges ? 

Mam. Let me but breathe. What, they have shut their 
doors, 
Methinks ! 

Sur. Ay, now 'tis hohday with them. 

Mam. Rogues, [He and Surly knock. 150 

Cozeners, rascals, cheats ! 

Face. What mean you, sir ! 

Mam. To enter if we can. 

Face. Another man's house ! 
Here is the owner, sir ; turn you to him. 
And speak your business. 

Ma?n. Are you, sir, the owner? 

Love. Yes, sir. 

Mam. And are those knaves within, your cheaters ! 

Love. What knaves, what cheaters ? 160 

Mam. Subtle and his Lungs. 

Face. The gentleman is distracted, sir ! No lungs. 
Nor lights have been seen here these three weeks, sir, 
Within these doors, upon my word. 

Sur. Your word. 
Groom arrogant ! 

Face. Yes, sir, I am the housekeeper, 
And know the keys have not been out of my hands. 

Sur. This is a new Face. 

Face. You do mistake the house, sir : 170 

What sign was't at? 

Sur. You rascal ! this is one 
Of the confederacy. Come, let's get officers. 
And force the door. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 241 

Love. Pray you, stay, gentlemen. 

Sur. No, sir, we'll come with warrant. 

Mam. Ay, and then 
We shall have your doors open. \_Exeunt Mam. and Sur. 

Love. What means this? 

Face. I cannot tell, sir. 180 

isf Net. These are two of the gallants 
That we do think we saw. 

Face. Two of the fools ! 
You talk as idly as they. Good faith, sir, 
I think the moon has crazed 'em all.^ Oh, me ! 

Enter Kastril. 

{Aside) The angry boy come too ! He'll make a noise. 
And ne'er away till he have betrayed us all. 

Kas. {knocking) . What rogues, cheats, slaves, you'll open 
the door anon ! 
W^hat, cockatrice, my suster ! But this light 
I'll fetch the marshal to you. You are a toad 190 

To keep your castle 

Face. Who would you speak with, sir? 

Kas. The dirty doctor and the cozening captain. 
And puss my suster. 

Love. This is something, sure. 

Face. Upon my trust, the doors were never open, sir. 

Kas. I have heard all their tricks told me twice over, 
By the fat knight and the lean gentleman. 

Love. Here comes another. 

Enter Ananias afid Tribulation. 

Face. Ananias too ! 200 

1 A very ancient and wide-spread superstition, the origin of the word 
lunatic. 



242 THE ALCHEMIST. [act v. 

And his pastor ! 

Tri. {beating at the door) . The doors are shut against us. 

Ana. Come forth, you seed of sulphur, sons of fire ! 
Your stench it is broke forth ; abomination 
Is in the house. 

Kas. Ay, my suster's there. 

A7ia. The place. 
It is become a cage of unclean birds. 

Kas. Yes, I will fetch the scavenger and the constable. 

Tri. You shall do well. 210 

Ana. We'll join to weed them out. 

Kas. You will not come, then, cockatrice,^ my suster ! 

Ana. Call her not sister ; she's a harlot, verily. 

Kas. I'll raise the street. 

Love. Good gentleman, a word. 

Ana. Satan avoid, and hinder not our zeal ! 

\_Exeimt Ana., Trie., and Kas. 

Love. The world's turned Bethlem. 

Face. These are all broke loose. 
Out of St. Katherine's, where they use to keep 
The better sort of mad-folks. 220 

1st Net. All these persons 
We saw go in and out here. 

2d Net. Yes, indeed, sir. 

jd Nei. These were the parties. 

Face. Peace, you drunkards ! Sir, 
I wonder at it : please you to give me leave 
To touch the door, I'll try an the lock be changed. 

Love. It mazes me ! 

1 A fabulous serpent, said to come from a cock's egg, and to have wings, 
legs, and crest like a cock. It was deemed so venomous as to be able to 
kill with its look. Same as the basilisk. 



SCENE I.] THE ALCHEMIST. 243 

Face {goes to the door) . Good faith, sir, I believe 
There's no such thing : 'tis all deceptio visus — 230 

(Aside) Would I could get hira away. 

Dap. {withifi). Master Captain ! Master Doctor ! 

Love. Who's that? 

Face {aside) . Our clerk within, that I forgot ! — I know 
not, sir. 

Dap. {tuithin). For God's sake, when will her grace be 
at leisure? 

Face. Ha ! 
Illusions, some spirit o' the air ! {Aside) His gag is melted, 
And now he sets out the throat. 

Z>ap. {within) . I am almost stifled 

Face {aside). Would you were altogether. 240 

Love. 'Tis in the house. 
Ha! list. 

Face. Believe it, sir, in the air. 

Love. Peace, you. 

Dap. {within). Mine aunt's grace does not use me well. 

Sub. {within). You fool. 
Peace, you'll mar all. 

Face {speaks thi'ough the key-hole, ivhile Lovewit ad- 
vances unobserved to the door) . Or you will else, you 
rogue. 

Love. Oh, is it so ? Then you converse with spirits ! 
Come, sir. No more of your tricks, good Jeremy, 
The truth, the shortest way. 250 

Face. Dismiss this rabble, sir, — 

{Aside) What shall I do? I am catched. 

Love. Good neighbours, 
I thank you all. You may depart. {Ex. Neigh.) Come, sir, 
You know that I am an indulgent master, 



244 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT V. 

And therefore conceal nothing. What's your medicine, 
To draw so many several sorts of wild- fowl ? 

Face. Sir, you were wont to affect mirth and wit. 
But here's no place to talk on't in the street. 
Give me but leave to make the best of my fortune, 260 

And only pardon me the abuse of your house : 
It's all I beg. I'll help you to a widow, 
In recompense, that you shall give me thanks for. 
Will make you seven years younger, and a rich one. 
'Tis but your putting on a Spanish cloak : 
I have her within. You need not fear the house ; 
It was not visited. 

Love. But by me, who came 
Sooner than you expected. 

Face. It is true, sir. 270 

Pray you, forgive me. 

Love. Well, let's see your widow. \_Fxeunf. 



Scene IL — A Room in the same. 
Fnter Subtle, leadiiig in Dapper with his eyes bound as befoi'e. 

Sub. How ! have you eaten your gag ? 

Dap. Yes, faith, it crumbled 
Away in my mouth. 

Sub. You have spoiled all, then. 

Dap. No ! 
I hope my aunt of Fairy will forgive me. 

Sub. Your aunt's a gracious lady ; but in troth 
You were to blame. 

Dap. The fume did overcome me, 
And I did do't to stay my stomach. Pray you 10 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 245 

So satisfy her grace. 

Enter Face in his uniform. 

Here comes the Captain. 

Face. How now ! Is his mouth down ? 

Sub. Ay, he has spoken ! 

Face. A plague, I heard him, and you too. He's undone 
then. 
I have been fain to say the house is haunted 
With spirits, to keep churl back. 

Sub. And hast thou done it? 

Face. Sure, for this night. 

Sub. Why, then triumph and sing 20 

Of Face so famous, the precious king 
Of present wits. 

Face. Did you not hear the coil 
About the door? 

Sub. Yes, and I dwindled with it. 

Face. Show him his aunt, and let him be dispatched ; 
ril send her to you. \_Exit Face. 

Sub. Well, sir, your aunt her grace 
Will give you audience presently, on my suit, 
And the captain's word that you did not eat your gag 30 

In any contempt of her highness. [ Unbinds his eyes. 

Dap, Not I, in troth, sir. 

Enter DoL, like the Queen of Fairy. 

Sub. Here she is come. Down o' your knees and wriggle : 
She has a stately presence. (Dapper kneels, and shuffles 

towards her.) Good ! Yet nearer, 
And bid, God save you ! 

Dap. Madam ! 

Sub. And your aunt. 



246 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT v. 

Dap. And my most gracious aunt, God save your grace. 

Dol. Nephew, we thought to have been angry with you ; 
But that sweet face of yours hath turned the tide, 40 

And made it flow with joy, that ebb'd of love. 
Arise, and touch our velvet gown. 

Sub. The skirts. 
And kiss 'em. So ! 

Dol. Let me now stroke that head. 
Much, nephew, shalt thou win, much shalt thou spend, 
Much shalt thou give away, much shalt thou lend. 

Sub. {aside). Ay, much indeed ! Why do you not thank 
her grace? 

Dap. I cannot speak for joy. 

Sub. See the kind wretch ! 50 

Your grace's kinsman right. 

Dol. Give me the bird. 
Here is your fly in a purse, about your neck, cousin ; 
Wear it, and feed it about this day seven-night, 
On your right wrist 

Sub. Open a vein with a pin. 
And let it suck but once a week ; till then 
You must not look on't. 

Dol. No : and, kinsman. 
Bear yourself worthy of the blood you come on. do 

Sub. Her grace would have you eat no more Woolsack pies. 
Nor Dagger frumety.^ 

Dol. Nor break his fast 
In Heaven and Hell.^ 

1 Frumety was food made of wheat boiled in milk. The Woolsack and 
Dagger were two taverns of low repute. 

2 Two mean alehouses abutting on Westminster Hall. There was a 
third called Purgatory. 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 247 

Sub. She's with you everywhere ! 
Nor play with costomongers at mum-chance/ trey-trip,^ 
God-make-you-rich^ (when as your aunt has done it) ; 
But keep 
The gallant'st company and the best games 

Dap. Yes, sir. ^ 70 

Sub. Gleek and primero : and what you get, be true to us. 

Dap. By this hand, I will. 

Sub. You may bring's a thousand pound 
Before to-morrow night, if but three thousand 
Be stirring, an you will. 

Dap. I swear I will, then. 

Sub. Your fly will learn you all games. 

Face {within). Have you done there? 

Sub. Your grace will command him no more duties ? 

Dol. No ! 80 

But come and see me often. I may chance 
To leave him three or four hundred chests of treasure. 
And some twelve thousand acres of Fairyland, 
If he game well and comely with good gamesters. 

Sub. There's a kind aunt ! Kiss her departing part. 
But you must sell your forty mark a-year, now. 

Dap. Ay, sir, I mean. 

Sub. Or give't away ; plague on't ! 

Dap. I'll give't mine aunt : I'll go and fetch the writings. 

\Exit. 

Sub. 'Tis well — away ! 90 

Re-enter Face. 
Face. Where's Subtle ? 

1 A rude game with dice. 

2 A game with draughts, to win which a trey must be thrown, 
8 A game. 



248 THE ALCHEMIST. [act V. 

Sub. Here: what news? 

Face. Drugger is at the door ; go take his suit, 
And bid him fetch a parson, presently : 
Say he shall marry the widow. Thou shalt spend 
A hundred pound by the service ! {Ex. Sub.) Now, Queen 

Dol, 
Have you packed up all ? 

Dol. Yes. 

Face. And how do you like 
The Lady Pliant? 100 

Dol. A good dull innocent. 

Re-efifer Subtle. 

Sub. Here's your Hieronymo's cloak and hat. 

Face. Give me them. 

Sub. And the ruff too ? 

Face. Yes ; I'll come to you presently. \_Fxit. 

Sub. Now he is gone about his project, Dol, 
I told you of, for the widow. 

Dol. 'Tis direct 
Against our articles. 

Sub. Well, we will fit him, wench. no 

Hast thou gulled her of her jewels or her bracelets? 

Dol. No ; but I will do't. 

Stcb. Soon at night, my Dolly, 
When we are shipped, and all our goods aboard, 
Eastward for Ratchff ; we will turn our course 
To Brainford, westward, if thou say'st the word, 
And take our leaves of this o'er-weening rascal, 
This peremptory Face. 

Dol. Content, I'm weary of him. 

Sub. Thou'st cause, when the slave will run a-wiving, Dol, 



SCENE II.] THE ALCHEMIST. 249 

Against the instrument that was drawn between us. 121 

Dol. I'll pluck his bird as bare as I can. 

Sub. Yes, tell her 
She must by any means address some present 
To the cunning man, make him amends for wronging 
His art with her suspicion ; send a ring 
Or chain of pearl ; she will be tortured else 
Extremely in her sleep, say, and have strange things 
Come to her. Wilt thou ? 

Dol. Yes. 130 

Sub. My fine flitter-mouse,^ 
My bird o' the night ! we'll revel at the Pigeons,^ 
When we have all, and may unlock the trunks, 
And say, this is mine, and thine ; and thine, and mine. 

\They kiss. 
Re-enter Face. 

Face. What now ! a-billing ? 

Sub. Yes, a little exalted 
In the good passage of our stock-affairs. 

Face. Drugger has brought his parson; take him in. 
Subtle, 
And send Nab back again to wash his face. 

Sub. I will : and shave himself. \_Exit. 140 

Face. If you can get him. 

Dol. You are hot upon it. Face, whate'er it is ! 

Face. A trick that Dol shall spend ten pound a month by. 

Re-enter Subtle. 
Is he gone? 

Sub. The chaplain waits you in the hall, sir. 

1 Bat ; German fiederinaus. 

2 The Three Pigeons : an inn at Brentford ; afterwards kept by the noted 
actor Lowin, when the Puritans shut up the theatres. 



250 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT V. 

Face. I'll go bestow him. {Exit. 

Dot. He'll now marry her, instantly. 

Sub. He cannot yet, he is not ready. Dear Dol, 
Cozen her of all thou canst. To deceive him 
Is no deceit, but justice, that would break 150 

Such an inextricable tie as ours was. 

Dol. Let me alone to fit him. 

Re-enter Face. 

Face. Come, my venturers, 
You have packed up all ? Where be the trunks ? Bring forth. 

Sub. Here. 

Face. Let us see them. Where's the money? 

Sub. Here, 
In this. 

Face. Mammon's ten pound ; eight score before ; 
The brethren's money this. Drugger's and Dapper's. 160 
What paper's that ? 

Dol. The jewel of the waiting- maid's. 
That stole it from her lady, to know certain 

Face. If she should have precedence of her mistress ? 

Dol. Yes. 

Face. What box is that ? 

Sub. The fish-wives' rings, I think, 
And the ale-wives' single money.^ Is't not, Dol ? 

Dol. Yes ; and the whistle that the sailor's wife 
Brought you to know an her husband were with Ward.^ 170 

Face. We'll wet it to-morrow ; and our silver-beakers 
And tavern cups. Where be the French petticoats. 
And girdles and hangers ? 

1 Money of small value, requiring no change. 

2 A notorious pirate. 



SCENE 11.] THE ALCHEMIST. 251 

Sul?. Here, in the trunk, • 

And the bolts of lawn. 

Face. Is Drugger's damask there, 
And the tobacco ? 

Sub. Yes. 

Face. Give me the keys. 

Vol. Why you the keys ? 180 

Sud. No matter, Dol ; because 
We shall not open them before he comes. 

Face. 'Tis true, you shall not open them, indeed ; 
Nor have them forth, do you see ? not forth, Dol. 

Dol. No ! 

Face. No, my smock rampant. The right is, my master 
Knows all, has pardoned me, and he will keep them ; 
Doctor, 'tis true — you look — for all your figures : 
I sent for him indeed.^ Wherefore, good partners, 
Both he and she be satisfied : for here 190 

Determines the indenture tripartite 
'Twixt Subtle, Dol, and Face. All I can do 
Is to help you over the wall, o' the back-side. 
Or lend you a sheet to save your velvet gown, Dol. 
Here will be officers presently, bethink you 
Of some course suddenly to 'scape the dock ^ : 
For thither you will come else. — i^Loud knocking^ — Hark 
you, thunder. 

Sub. You are a precious fiend ! 

Off. {without). Open the door. 

Face. Dol, I am sorry for thee, i' faith ; but hear'st thou ? 
It shall go hard but I will place thee somewhere : 201 

Thou shalt have my letter to Mistress Amo 

1 A characteristic lie, 

2 An apartment in Newgate, or Bridewell, prison. 



252 THE ALCHEMIST. [act v. 

DoL Hang you ! 

Face. Or Madam Csesarean.^ 

Dol. Out upon you, rogue ! 
Would I had but time to beat thee ! 

Face. Subde, 
Let's know where you set up next ; I will send you 
A customer now and then, for old acquaintance : 
What new course have you ? 210 

Sub. Rogue, I'll hang myself. 
That I may walk a greater devil than thou. 
And haunt thee in the flock-bed and the buttery. \_Exeunt 

Scene III. — An outer Room in the same. 

Enter Lovewit in the Spafiish dress, with the Parson. 

\_Loud knocking at the door.'] 

Love. What do you mean, my masters? 

Mam. {without). Open your door, 
Cheaters, thieves, conjurors. 

Off. {without) . Or we will break it open. 

Love. What warrant have you? 

Off. {without) . Warrant enough, sir, doubt not, 
If you'll not open it. 

Love. Is there an ofificer, there ? 

Off. {without). Yes, two or three for failing.^ 

Love. Have but patience, 10 

And I will open it straight. 

Enter Face as butler. 

Face. Sir, have you done ? 

1 The nicknames of two notorious women. 2 por fear of failing. 



SCENE III.] THE ALCHEMIST. 253 

Is it a marriage ? perfect ? 

Love. Yes, my brain. 

Face. Off with your ruff and cloak then ; be yourself, sir. 

Sur. {without). Down with the door. 

Kas. {without) . 'Slight, ding ^ it open. 

Love, {opening the door) . Hold, 
Hold, gentleman, what means this violence ? 

Mammon, Surly, Kastril, Ananias, Tribulation, and 
Officers rush in. 

Matn. Where is this collier? 20 

Sur. And my Captain Face ? 

Mam. These day owls. 

Sur. That are birding ^ in men's purses. 

Mam. Madam Suppository. 

Kas. Doxy, my suster. 

Ana. Locusts 
Of the foul pit. 

Tri. Profane as Bel and the Dragon. 

Ana. Worse than the grasshoppers or the lice of Egypt. 

Love. Good gentlemen, hear me. Are you officers, 30 
And cannot stay this violence ? 

1st Off. Keep the peace. 

Love. Gentlemen, what is the matter ? Whom do you seek ? 

Mam. The chemical cozener. 

Sur. And the captain pander. 

Kas. The nun, my suster. 

Mam. Madam Rabbi 

Ana. Scorpions 
And caterpillars. 

Love. Fewer at once, I pray you. 4° 

1 Break ; still common in Scotland. 2 Pilfering. 



254 THE ALCHEMIST. [act v. 

2d Off. One after another, gentlemen, I charge you, 
By virtue of my staff. 

Ana. They are the vessels 
Of pride, lust, and the cart.' 

Love. Good zeal, lie still 
A little while. 

Tri. Peace, Deacon Ananias. 

Love. The house is mine here, and the doors are open : 
If there be any such persons as you seek for. 
Use your authority, search on, o' God's name. 50 

I am but newly come to town, and finding 
This tumult 'bout my door, to tell you true, 
It somewhat mazed me ; till my man here, fearing 
My more displeasure, told me he had done 
Somewhat an insolent part, let out my house 
(Behke, presuming on my known aversion 
From any air o' the town while there was sickness) 
To a doctor and a captain : who, what they are. 
Or where they be, he knows not. * 

Mam. Are they gone? 60 

Love. You may go in and search, sir. (Mammon, Ana. 
^^z^/Trib. go in.) Here, I find 
The empty walls worse than I left them, smoked, 
A few cracked pots and glasses, and a furnace : 
The ceiUng filled with poesies of the candle. 
And madam with a dildo^ writ o' the walls : 
Only one gentlewoman, I met here. 
That is within, that said she was a widow — — 

Kas. Ay, that's my suster : I'll go thump her. Where is 
she? {^Goesin. 

1 Hangman's cart. 

2 The refrain of a coarse old song ; cf. Winter's Tale, iv, 3 : " dildos 
and faldings." 



SCENE III.] THE ALCHEMIST. 255 

Love. And should have married a Spanish Count, but he, 
When he came to't neglected her so grossly, 70 

That I, a widower, am gone through with her. 

Siir. How ! have I lost her then? 

Love. Were you the don, sir ! 
Good faith, now, she does blame you extremely, and says 
You swore, and told her you had taken the pains 
To dye your beard, and umbre o'er your face, 
Borrowed a suit, and ruff, all for her love ; 
And then did nothing. What an oversight, 
And want of putting forward, sir, was this ! 
Well fare an old harquebuzier, yet, 80 

Could prime his powder, and give fire, and hit, 
All in a twinkling ! 

Re-enter Mammon. 

Mam. The whole nest are fled ! 

Love. What sort of birds were they ? 

Mam. A kind of choughs,^ 
Or thievish daws, sir, that have pick'd my purse 
Of eight score and ten pound within these five weeks. 
Beside my first materials ; and my goods. 
That lie in the cellar, which I am glad they have left, 
I may have home yet. 90 

Love. Think you so, sir? 

Mam. Ay. 

Love. By order of law, sir, but not otherwise. 

Mam. Not mine own stuff ! 

Love. Sir, I can take no knowledge 
That they are yours, but by public means. 
If you can bring certificate that you were gull'd of them, 

1 Kind of crow. 



256 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT v. 

Or any formal writ out of a court, 

That you did cozen yourself, I will not hold them. 

Mam. I'll rather lose them. 100 

Love. That you shall not, sir. 
By me, in troth : upon these terms they are yours. 
What ! should they have been, sir, turn'd into gold, all? 

Majn. No, 
I cannot tell — It may be they should — What then? 

Love. What a great loss in hope have you sustain'd ! 

Mam. Not I, the commonwealth has. 

Face. Ay, he would have built 
The city new ; and made a ditch about it 
Of silver, should have run with cream from Hogsden; no 
That, every Sunday, in Moor-fields, the younkers,^ 
And tits and tom-boys should have fed on, gratis. 

Main. I will go mount a turnip-cart and preach 
The end of the world, within these two months. Surly, 
What ! in a dream? 

Sur. Must I needs cheat myself. 
With that same foolish vice of honesty ! 
Come, let us go and hearken out the rogues : 
That Face I'll mark for mine, if e'er I meet him. 

Face. If I can hear of him, sir, I'll bring you word, 120 
Unto your lodging ; for in troth, they were strangers 
To me, I thought them honest as myself, sir. 

\_Exeunt Mam. a7id Sur. 

Re-enter Ananias a?id Tribulation. 

Trt. 'Tis well, the saints shall not lose all yet. Go, 

1 Rich, well-born youths (German Junker) ; cf. Merchant of Venice, 
ii, 6 : — 

" How like a younker, or a prodigal, 
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay." 



SCENE III.] THE ALCHEMIST. 25 7 

And get some carts 



Love. For what, my zealous friends ? 

Ana. To bear away the portion of the righteous 
Out of this den of thieves. 

Love. What is that portion? 

Ana. The goods sometimes the orphan's, that the brethren 
Bought with their silver pence. 130 

Love. What, those in the cellar, 
The knight Sir Mammon claims? 

A7ia. I do defy 
The wicked Mammon, so do all the brethren. 
Thou profane man ! I ask thee with what conscience 
Thou canst advance that idol against us. 
That have the seal? were not the shillings number'd, 
That made the pounds ; were not the pounds told out, 
Upon the second day of the fourth week. 
In the eighth month, upon the table dormant, 140 

The year of the last patience of the saints. 
Six hundred and ten? 

Love. Mine earnest vehement botcher, 
And deacon also, I cannot dispute with you : 
But if you get you not away the sooner, 
I shall confute you with a cudgel. 

Ana. Sir ! 

Tri. Be patient, Ananias. 

Ana. I am strong, 
And will stand up, well girt, against an host 150 

That threaten Gad in exile. 

Love. I shall send you 
To Amsterdam, to your cellar. 

Ana. I will pray there, 
Against thy house : may dogs defile thy walls, 



258 THE ALCHEMIST. [ACT V. 

And wasps and hornets breed beneath thy roof, 
This seat of falsehood, and this cave of cozenage ! 

\_Exeunt K'i!iPL. and Trie. 

Enter D rugger. 

Love. Another too? 

Drug. Not I, sir, I am no brother. 

Love, {beats hint) . Away, you Harry Nicholas ^ ! do you 
talk? [^.r// Drugger. 160 

Face. No, this was Abel Drugger. Good sir, go, 

\_To the Parson. 
And satisfy him ; tell him all is done : 
He staid too long a-washing of his face. 
The doctor, he shall hear of him at West-chester ; 
And of the captain, tell him, at Yarmouth, or 
Some good port-town else, lying for a wind. \^Exit Parson. 
If you can get off the angry child, now, sir 

Enter Kastril, dragging in his sister. 

Kas. Come on, you ewe, you have match'd most sweetly, 
have you not? 
'Slight, you are a mammet ^ ! O, I could touse you, now. 
Death, mun' you marry, with a plague ! 170 

Love. You lie, boy ; 
As sound as you ; and I'm aforehand with you. 

Kas. Anon ! 

Love. Come, will you quarrel ? I will feize ^ you, sirrah ; 
Why do you not buckle to your tools ? 

1 A fanatic of Leyden, supposed to be the founder of the sect called 
" The Family of Love." 

2 Puppet; the word is a corruption of Mahomet, and was applied to 
effigies of him. 

3 Chastise, beat ; still used in the West of England. 



« 



SCENE III.] THE ALCHEMIST. 259 

Kas. Ods light, 
This is a fine old boy as e'er I saw ! 

Love. What, do you change your copy now? Proceed, 
Here stands my dove : stoop ^ at her, if you dare. 

Kas. 'Slight, I must love him ! I cannot choose, i' faith, 
An I should be hang'd for't ! Suster, I protest, 181 

I honour thee for this match. 

Love. O, do you so, sir? 

Kas. Yes, and thou canst take tobacco and drink, old boy, 
I'll give her five hundred pound more to her marriage, 
Than her own state. 

Love. Fill a pipe full, Jeremy. 

Face. Yes ; but go in and take it, sir. 

Love. We will — 
I will be ruled by thee in anything, Jeremy. 190 

Kas. 'Slight, thou art not hide-bound, thou art a jovy- 
boy ! 
Come, let us in, I pray thee, and take our whiffs. 

Love. Whiff in with your sister, brother boy. 

{Exeunt ¥^AS>. and Dame P.) That master 
That had received such happiness by a servant, 
In such a widow, and with so much wealth. 
Were very ungrateful, if he would not be 
A little indulgent to that servant's wit. 
And help his fortune, though with some small strain 
Of his own candour.^ — (Advancing.) Therefore, gentlemen, 
And kind spectators, if I have outstript 200 

An old man's gravity, or strict canon, think 
What a young wife and a good brain may do ; 
Stretch age's tnith sometimes, and crack it too. 

1 Pounce upon ; a term in falconry. 

2 Merry. ^ pair reputation, honor. 



26o THE ALCHEMIST. [act v. 

Speak for thyself, knave. ^ 

Face. So I will, sir. — (^Advancing to the front of the stage.) 
Gentlemen, 
My part a little fell in this last scene. 
Yet 'twas decorum. And though I am clean 
Got off from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol, 
Hot x\nanias. Dapper, Drugger, all 

With whom I traded : yet I put myself 210 

On you that are my country : and this pelf, 
Which I have got, if you do quit me, rests 
To feast you often, and invite new guests. \_Exeunt} 

1 " The manifold harmony of inventive combination and imaginative I 

contrast, the multitudinous unity of various and concordant effects, the 1 

complexity and the simplicity of action and impression, which hardly allow 
the reader's mind to hesitate betAveen enjoyment and astonishment, laughter 
and wonder, admiration and diversion — all the distinctive qualities which 
the alchemic cunning of the poet has fused together in the crucible of 
dramatic satire for the production of a flawless work of art, have given us j 

the most perfect model of imaginative realism and satirical comedy that the I 

world has ever seen ; the most Avonderful work of its kind that can ever be 
run upon the same lines." — Swinburne : A Study of Ben yonson. Cole- 
ridge " thought tlie CEdipus Tyrafinus, The Alche?nist, and Tom Jones, the 
three most perfect plots ever planned." 



III. 

PHILASTER; 

OR, 

LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING. 

By Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher. 

Probably first represented in 1608. 



PHILASTER; 



LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING, 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



King. 

PHILASTER, Heir to the Crown of 

Sicily. 
Pharamond, Prince of Spain. 
Dion, a Lord. 
Cleremont 
Thrasiline. 
An old Captain. 
Citizens. 
A Country Fellow 



Noble Gentlemen. 



Two Woodmen. 

Guard, Attendants. 

Arethusa, Daughter of the King. 

Euphrasia, Daughter of Dion, dis- 
guised as a Page under the name 
of Bellario. 

Megra, a Court Lady, 

Galatea, a Lady attending the 
Princess. 

Two other Ladies. 



Scene : Mess'ma and its neighbourhood. 



ACT I. 

Scene L — The Presence Chambej' in the Palace. 

Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. 

Cle. Here's nor lords nor ladies. 

Dion. Credit me, gentlemen, I wonder at it. They re- 
ceived strict charge from the King to attend here : besides, 

263 



264 PHILASTER. [ACT I. 

it was boldly published, that no officer should forbid any 
gentleman that desired to attend and hear. 

Cle. Can you guess the cause ? 

Dion. Sir, it is plain, about the Spanish Prince, that's 
come to marry our kingdom's heir and be our sovereign, 

Thi'a. Many, that will seem to know much, say she looks 
not on him like a maid in love. 10 

Dion. Oh, sir, the multitude, that seldom know any thing 
but their own opinions, speak that they would have ; but 
the prince, before his own approach, received so many con- 
fident messages from the state, that I think she's resolved to 
be ruled. 

Cle. Sir, it is thought, with her he shall enjoy both these 
kingdoms of Sicily and Calabria. 

Dion. Sir, it is without controversy so meant. But 'twill 
be a troublesome labour for him to enjoy both these king- 
doms with safety, the right heir to one of them living, and 
living so virtuously ; especially, the people admiring the" 
bravery of his mind and lamenting his injuries. 22 

Cle. Who? Philaster? 

Dion. Yes ; whose father, we all know, was by our late 
King of Calabria unrighteously deposed from his fruitful 
Sicily. Myself drew some blood in those wars, which I 
would give my hand to be washed from. 

Cle. Sir, my ignorance in state-poHcy will not let me know 
why, Philaster being heir to one of these kingdoms, the King 
should suffer him to walk abroad with such free liberty. 30 

Dion. Sir, it seems your nature is more constant than to 
inquire after state-news. But the King, of late, made a hazard 
of both the kingdoms, of Sicily and his own, with offering but 
to imprison Philaster ; at which the city was in arms, not to 
be charmed down by any state-order or proclamation, till 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 265 

they saw Philaster ride through the streets pleased and with- 
out a guard ; at which they threw their hats and their arms 
from them ; some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for 
his deliverance : which, wise men say, is the cause the King 
labours to bring in the power of a foreign nation to awe his 
own with. 41 

Enter Galatea, a Lady, and Megra. 

Thra. See, the ladies ! What's the first ? 

Dion. A wise and modest gentlewoman that attends the 
princess. 

Cle. The second ? 

Dion. She is one that may stand still discreetly enough, 
and ill-favouredly dance her measure ; simper when she is 
courted by her friend, and shght her husband. 

Cle. The last? 49 

Dion. Marry, I think she is one whom the state keeps for 
the agents of our confederate princes : she'll cog ^ and lie 
with a whole army, before the league shall break. Her 
name is common through the kingdom, and the trophies of 
her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules' Pillars. 

Cle. She's a profitable member. 

Lady. Peace, if you love me : you shall see these gentle- 
men stand their ground and not court us. 

Gal. What if they should? 

Megra. What if they should ! 59 

Lady. Nay, let her alone. — What if they should ! Why, 
if they should, I say they were never abroad : what foreigner 
would do so ? it writes them directly untravelled. 

Gal. Why, what if they be ? 

Megra. What if they be ! 

1 Cheat, cajole. 



266 PHILASTER. [ACT I. 

Lady. Good madam, let her go on. — What if they be ! 
why, if they be, I will justify, they cannot maintain discourse 
with a judicious lady, nor make a leg ^ nor say " excuse me." 

Gal. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Lady. Do you laugh, madam ? 

Dion. Your desires upon you, ladies ! 70 

Lady. Then you must sit beside us. 

Dion. I shall sit near you then, lady. 

Lady. Near me, perhaps ; but there's a lady endures no 
stranger ; and to me you appear a very strange fellow. 

Megra. Methinks he's not so strange ; he would quickly be 
acquainted. 

Thra. Peace, the King ! 

E?iter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, and Attendants. 

King. To give a stronger testimony of love 
Than sickly promises (which commonly 
In princes find both birth and burial 80 

In one breath) we have drawn you, worthy sir. 
To make your fair endearments to our daughter, 
And worthy services known to our subjects, 
Now loved and wondered at ; next, our intent 
To plant you deeply, our immediate heir 
Both to our blood and kingdoms. For this lady, 
(The best part of your hfe, as you confirm me, 
And I believe,) though her few years and sex 
Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes, 
Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge 90 

Only of what herself is to herself. 
Make her feel moderate health ; and when she sleeps, 
In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams : 
1 Bow. 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 267 

Think not, dear sir, these undivided parts, 

That must mould up a virgin, are put on 

To show her so, as borrowed ornaments. 

To speak her perfect love to you, or add 

An artificial shadow to her nature — 

No, sir ; I boldly dare proclaim her yet 

No woman. But woo her still, and think her modesty 100 

A sweeter mistress than the offered language 

Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye 

Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants.^ 

Last, noble son (for so I now must call you), 

What I have done thus public, is not only 

To add a comfort in particular 

To you or me, but all ; and to confirm 

The nobles and the gentry of these kingdoms 

By oath to your succession, which shall be 

Within this month at most. no 

Thra. This will be hardly done. 

Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done. 

Dion. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half done, whilst 
So brave a gentleman is wronged and flung off. 

Tht'a. I fear. 

Ck. Who does not? 

Dion. I fear not for myself, and yet I fear too : 
Well, we shall see, we shall see. No more. 

Pha. Kissing your white hand, mistress, I take leave 
To thank your royal father ; and thus far 120 

To be my own free trumpet. Understand, 
Great King, and these your subjects, mine that must be, 
(For so deserving you have spoke me, sir, 
And so deserving I dare speak myself,) 

1 Suitors. 



2 68 PHILASTER. [ACT I. 

To what a person, of what eminence, 

Ripe expectation, of what faculties. 

Manners and virtues, you would wed your kingdoms ; 

You in me have your wishes. Oh, this country ! 

By more than all my hopes, I hold it happy ; 

Happy in their dear memories that have been 130 

Kings great and good ; happy in yours that is ; 

And from you (as a chronicle to keep 

Your noble name from eating age) do I 

Opine myself most happy. Gentlemen, 

Believe me in a word, a prince's word. 

There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom 

Mighty and flourishing, defenced, feared. 

Equal to be commanded and obeyed. 

But through the travails of my life I'll find it, 

And tie it to this country. And I vow 140 

My reign shall be so easy to the subject. 

That every man shall be his prince himself 

And his own law — yet I his prince and law. 

And, dearest lady, to your dearest self 

(Dear in the choice of him whose name and lustre 

Must make you more and mightier) let me say. 

You are the blessed'st living ; for, sweet princess, 

You shall enjoy a man of men to be 

Your servant ; you shall make him yours, for whom 

Great queens must die. 150 

Thra. Miraculous ! 

Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing 
But a large inventory of his own commendations. 

Dion. I wonder what's his price ; for certainly 
He'll sell himself, he has so praised his shape. 
But here comes one more worthy those large speeches, 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 269 

Enter Philaster. 

Than the large speaker of them. 

Let me be swallowed quick, if I can find, 

In all the anatomy of yon man's virtues, 

One sinew sound enough to promise for him, 160 

He shall be canstable. By this sun, he'll ne'er make king 

Unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment. 

Phi. {kneeling). Right noble sir, as low as my obedience, 
And with a heart as loyal as my knee, 
I beg your favour. 

Kijig. Rise ; you have it, sir. [Philaster rises. 

Dion. Mark but the King, how pale he looks with fear ! 
Oh, this same nettle conscience, how it jades us ! 

King. Speak your intents, sir. 

Phi. Shall I speak 'em freely? 170 

Be still my royal sovereign. 

King. As a subject. 
We give you freedom. 

Dion. Now it heats. 

Phi. Then thus I turn 
My language to you, prince ; you, foreign man ! 
Ne'er stare nor put on wonder, for you must 
Endure me, and you shall. This earth you tread upon 
(A dowry, as you hope, with this fair princess), 
By my dead father (oh, I had a father, i8c 

Whose memory I bow to !) was not left 
To your inheritance, and I up and living — 
Having myself about me and my sword, 
The souls of all my name and memories, 
These arms and some few friends beside the gods — 
To part so calmly with it, and sit still 



270 PHIL ASTER. [ACT I. 

And say, " I might have been." I tell thee, Pharamond, 

When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten. 

And my name ashes : for, hear me, Pharamond ! 

This very ground thou goest on, this fat earth, 190 

My father's friends made fertile with their faiths, 

Before that day of shame shall gape and swallow 

Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave, 

Into her hidden bowels ; prince, it shall ; 

By Nemesis, it shall ! 

Pha. He's mad ; beyond cure, mad. 

Dion. Here is a fellow has some fire in's veins : 
The outlandish prince looks like a tooth-drawer. 

Phi. Sir, prince of popinjays,^ I'll make it well 
Appear to you I am not mad. 200 

King. You displease us : 
You are too bold. 

Phi. No, sir, I am too tame. 
Too much a turtle, a thing born without passion, 
A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud 
Sails over and makes nothing. 

King. I do not fancy this. 
Call our physicians : sure, he's somewhat tainted. 

Thra. I do not think 'twill prove so. 

Dion. He has given him a general purge already, 210 

For all the right he has ; and now he means 
To let him blood. Be constant, gentlemen : 
By these hilts, I'll run his hazard. 
Although I run my name out of the kingdom ! 

Cle. Peace, we are all one soul. 

Pha. What you have seen in me to stir offence, 

1 Parrots ; a mark like a parrot put on a pole to be shot at ; hence a 
coxcomb. 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER, 271 

I cannot find, unless it be this lady, 

Offered into mine arms, with the succession ; 

Which I must keep, (though it hath pleased your fury 

To mutiny within you,) without disputing 220 

Your genealogies, or taking knowledge 

Whose branch you are : the King will leave it me. 

And I dare make it mine. You have your answer. 

Phi. If thou wert sole inheritor to him 
That made the world his, and couldst see no sun 
Shine upon anything but thine ; were Pharamond 
As truly valiant as I feel him cold. 
And ringed among the choicest of his friends 
(Such as would blush to talk such serious follies, 
Or back such bellied commendations), 230 

And from this presence, spite of all these bugs,^ 
You should hear further from me. 

King. Sir, you wrong the prince ; I gave you not this 
freedom 
To brave our best friends : you deserve our frown. 
Go to ; be better tempered. 

Phi. It must be, sir, when I am nobler used. 

Gal. Ladies, 
This would have been a pattern of succession, 
Had he ne'er met this mischief. By my Hfe, 240 

He is the worthiest the true name of man 
This day within my knowledge. 

Meg. I cannot tell what you may call your knowledge ; 
But the other is the man set in mine eye : 
Oh, 'tis a prince of wax ! ^ 

Gal. A dog it is. 

1 Bugbears. In Welsh, <5zr/ means spectre, a hobgoblin. 

2 Handsome, elegant. 



2 72 PHILASTER. [ACT i. 

King. Philaster, tell me 
The injuries you aim at in your riddles. 

Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance, 
My griefs upon you and my broken fortunes, 250 

My wants great, and now nought but hopes and fears. 
My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laughed at. 
Dare you be still my king, and right me not? 

King. Give me your wrongs in private. 

Phi. Take them, 
And ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas. 

\_They talk apart. 

Cle. He dares not stand the shock. 

Dion. I cannot blame him ; there's danger in't. 258 

Every man in this age has not a soul of crystal, for all men 
to read their actions through : men's hearts and faces are so 
far asunder, that they hold no intelligence. Do but view yon 
stranger well, and you shall see a fever through all his bravery, 
and feel him shake like a true recreant : if he give not back 
his crown again upon the report of an elder-gun, I have no 
augury. 

King. Go to ; 
Be more yourself, as you respect our favour ; 
You'll stir us else. Sir, I must have you know, 
That you are, and shall be, at our pleasure, 
What fashion we will put upon you. Smooth 270 

Your brow, or by the gods 

Phi. I am dead, sir ; you're my fate. It was not I 
Said, I was wronged : I carry all about me 
My weak stars lead me to, all my weak fortunes. 
Who dares in all this presence speak, (that is 
But man of flesh, and may be mortal,) tell me, 
I do not most entirely love this prince, 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 273 

And honour his full virtues ! 

King. Sure, he's possessed. 

Phi. Yes, with my father's spirit. It's here, O King ! 280 
A dangerous spirit. Now he tells me, King, 
I was a king's heir, bids me be a king. 
And whispers to me, these are all my subjects. 
'Tis strange he will not let me sleep, but dives 
Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes 
That kneel and do me service, cry me king : 
But I'll suppress him ; he's a factious spirit. 
And will undo me. Noble sir, your hand ; 
I am your servant. 

Ki?ig. Away ! I do not like this : 290 

I'll make you tamer, or I'll dispossess you 
Both of your life and spirit. For this time 
I pardon your wild speech, without so much 
As your imprisonment. 

\Exeunt King, Pharamond, Arethusa, 
and Attendants. 

Dion. I thank you, sir ! you dare not for the people. 

Gal. Ladies, what think you now of this brave fellow ? 

Meg. A pretty talking fellow, hot at hand. But eye yon 
stranger : is he not a fine complete gentleman ? Oh, these 
strangers, I do affect them strangely ! As I live, I could love 
all the nation over and over for his sake. 300 

Gal. Pride comfort your poor head-piece, lady ! 'tis a 
weak one, and had need of a night-cap. 

\_Exeunl Galatea, Megra, and Lady. 

Dion. See, how his fancy labours ! Has he not 
Spoke home and bravely ? what a dangerous train 
Did he give fire to ! how he shook the King, 
Made his soul melt within him, and his blood 



2 74 PHILASTER. [ACT I. 

Run into whey ! it stood upon his brow 
Like a cold winter-dewo 

Phi. Gentlemen, 
You have no suit to me ? I am no minion : 310 

You stand, methinks, like men that would be courtiers. 
If I could well be flattered at a price. 
Not to undo your children. You're all honest : 
Go, get you home again, and make your country 
A virtuous court, to which your great ones may. 
In their diseased age, retire and live recluse. 

Cle. How do you, worthy sir? 

Phi. Well, very well ; 
And so well that, if the King please, I find 
I may live many years. 320 

Dion. The King must please, 
Whilst we know what you are and who you are, 
Your wrongs and virtues. Shrink not, worthy sir. 
But add your father to you ; in whose name 
We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up 
The rods of vengeance, the abused people. 
Who, like to raging torrents, shall swell high. 
And so begirt the dens of these male-dragons. 
That, through the strongest safety, they shall beg 
For mercy at your sword's point. 330 

Phi. Friends, no more ; 
Our ears may be corrupted ; 'tis an age 
We dare not trust our wills to. Do you love me ? 

Thra. Do we love Heaven and honour? 

Phi. My Lord Dion, you had 
A virtuous gentlewoman called you father ; 
Is she yet alive ? 

Dion. Most honoured sir, she is ; 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 275 

And, for the penance but of an idle dream, 

Has undertook a tedious pilgrimage. 340 

Enter a Lady. 

Phi. Is it to me 
Or any of these gentlemen you come? 

Lady. To you, brave lord ; the princess would entreat 
Your present company. 

Phi. The princess send for me ! you are mistaken. 

Lady. If you be called Philaster, 'tis to you. 

Phi. Kiss her fair hand, and say I will attend her. 

\^Exit Lady. 

Dion. Do you know what you do ? 

Phi. Yes ; go to see a woman. 

Cle. But do you weigh the danger you are in ? 350 

Phi. Danger in a sweet face ! 
By Jupiter, I must not fear a woman ! 

Th7'a. But are you sure it was the princess sent? 
It may be some foul train to catch your life. 

Phi. I do not think it, gentlemen ; she's noble. 
Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red 
And white friends in her face may steal my soul out ; 
There's all the danger in't : but, be what may. 
Her single name hath armed me. \_Exit. 

Dion. Go on, 360 

And be as truly happy as thou'rt fearless ! 
Come, gentlemen, let's make our friends acquainted, 
Lest the King prove false. {^Exeunt 



276 PHILASTER. [ACT I. 

Scene IL — Arethusa's Apartment in the Palace. 
Enter Arethusa and a Lady. 

Are. Comes he not? 

Lady. Madam? 

Are. Will Philaster come? 

Lady. Dear madam, you were wont to credit me 
At first. 

Are. But didst thou tell me so ? 
I am forgetful, and my woman's strength 
Is so o'ercharged with dangers like to grow 
About my marriage, that these under-things 
Dare not abide in such a troubled sea. 10 

How looked he when he told thee he would come ? 

Lady. Why, well. 

Are. And not a little fearful? 

Lady. Fear, madam ! sure, he knows not what it is. 

A7-e. You are all of his faction : the whole court 
Is bold in praise of him ; whilst I 
May live neglected, and do noble things, 
As fools in strife throw gold into the sea. 
Drowned in the doing. But, I know he fears. 

Lady. Fear, madam ! methought, his looks hid more 20 
Of love than fear. 

Are. Of love ! to whom ? to you ? 
Did you deliver those plain words I sent. 
With such a winning gesture and quick look 
That you have caught him ? 

Lady. Madam, I mean to you. 

Are. Of love to me ! alas, thy ignorance 
Lets thee not see the crosses of our births ! 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 277 

Nature, that loves not to be questioned 

Why she did this or that, but has her ends, 30 

And knows she does well, never gave the world 

Two things so opposite, so contrary. 

As he and I am : if a bowl of blood, 

Drawn from this arm of mine, would poison thee, 

A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to me ! 

Lady. Madam, I think I hear him. 

Ai-e. Bring him in. \^Exit Lady. 

You gods, that would not have your dooms withstood, 
Whose holy wisdoms at this time it is. 

To make the passion of a feeble maid 40 

The way unto your justice, I obey. 

Re-enter Lady with Philaster. 

Lady. Here is my Lord Philaster. 

Are. Oh, 'tis well. 
Withdraw yourself. \^Exit Lady. 

Phi. Madam, your messenger 
Made me believe you wished to speak with me. 

A7'e. 'Tis true, Philaster ; but the words are such 
I have to say, and do so ill beseem 
The mouth of woman, that I wish them said, 
And yet am loath to speak them. Have you known 50 

That I have aught detracted from your worth? 
Have I in person wronged you ? or have set 
My baser instruments to throw disgrace 
Upon your virtues ? 

Fhi. Never, madam, you. 

Are. Why, then, should you, in such a public place, 
Injure a princess, and a scandal lay 
Upon my fortunes, famed to be so great, 



278 PHIL ASTER. [ACT L 

Calling a great part of my dowry in question ? 

Phi. Madam, this truth which I shall speak will be 60 

Foohsh : but, for your fair and virtuous self, 
I could afford myself to have no right 
To anything you wished. 

Are. Philaster, know, 
I must enjoy these kingdoms. 

Phi. Madam, both ? 

Are. Both, or I die : by fate, I die, Philaster, 
If I not calmly may enjoy them both. 

Phi. I would do much to save that noble life : 
Yet would be loath to have posterity 70 

Find in our stories, that Philaster gave 
His right unto a sceptre and a crown 
To save a lady's longing. 

Are. Nay, then, hear : 
I must and will have them, and more 

Phi. What more ? 

Are. Or lose that little life the gods prepared 
To trouble this poor piece of earth withal. 

Phi. Madam, what more ? 

Ai-e. Turn, then, away thy face. 80 

Phi. No. 

Are. Do. 

Phi. I can endure it. Turn away my face ! 
I never yet saw enemy that looked 
So dreadfully, but that I thought myself 
As great a basilisk as he ; or spake 
So horrible, but that I thought my tongue 
Bore thunder underneath, as much as his ; 
Nor beast that I could turn from : shall I then 
Begin to fear sweet sounds ? a lady's voice, 90 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 279 

Whom I do love ? Say, you would have my life ; 
Why, I will give it you ; for 'tis to me 
A thing so loathed, and unto you that ask 
Of so poor use, that I shall make no price : 
If you entreat, I will unmovedly hear. 

Are. Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy looks. 

Phi. I do. 

Are. Then know, I must have them and thee. 

Phi. And me? 

Are. Thy love ; without which, all the land 100 

Discovered yet will serve me for no use 
But to be buried in. 

Phi. Is't possible? 

A7'e. With it, it were too little to bestow 
On thee. Now, though thy breath do strike me dead, 
(Which, know, it may) I have unript my breast. 

Phi. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts. 
To lay a train for this contemned life^ 
Which you may have for asking : to suspect 
Were base, where I deserve no ill. Love you ! no 

By all my hopes, I do, above my life ! 
But how this passion should proceed from you 
So violently, would amaze a man 
That would be jealous. 

Are. Another soul into my body shot 
Could not have filled me with more strength and spirit 
Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time 
In seeking how I came thus : 'tis the gods. 
The gods, that make me so ; and, sure, our love 
Will be the nobler and the better blest, 12c 

In that the secret justice of the gods 
Is mingled with it. Let us leave, and kiss ; 



28o PHILASTER. [ACT I. 

Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us, 
And we should part without it. 

Phi. 'Twill be ill 
I should abide here long. 

Are. Tis true ; and worse 
You should come often. How shall we devise 
To hold intelligence, that our true loves, 
On any new occasion, may agree 130 

What path is best to tread ? 

Phi. I have a boy, 
Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent, 
Not yet seen in the court. Hunting the buck, 
I found him sitting by a fountain's side, 
Of which he borrowed some to quench his thirst. 
And paid the nymph again as much in tears. 
A garland lay him by, made by himself 
Of many several flowers bred in the vale. 
Stuck in that mystic order that the rareness 140 

Delighted me : but ever when he turned 
His tender eyes upon 'em, he would weep, 
As if he meant to make 'em grow again. 
Seeing such pretty helpless innocence 
Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story : 
He told me that his parents gentle died. 
Leaving him to the mercy of the fields, 
Which gave him roots ; and of the crystal springs. 
Which did not stop their courses ; and the sun, 
Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light. 150 

Then took he up his garland, and did show 
What every flower, as country-people hold. 
Did signify, and how all, ordered thus. 
Expressed his grief; and, to my thoughts, did read 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 28 1 

The prettiest lecture of his country art 

That could be wished : so that, methought, I could 

Have studied it. I gladly entertained 

Him, who was as glad to follow ; and have got 

The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy 

That ever master kept.^ Him will I send 160 

To wait on you, and bear our hidden love. 

Re-enter Lady. 

Are. 'Tis well ; no more. 

Lady. Madam, the prince is come to do his service. 

Are. What will you do, Philaster, with yourself? 

Phi. Why, that which all the gods have pointed out for me. 

Are. Dear, hide thyself. — 
Bring in the prince. \_Exit Lady. 

Phi. Hide me from Pharamond ! 
When thunder speaks, which is the voice of Jove, 
Though I do reverence, yet I hide me not ; 170 

And shall a stranger-prince have leave to brag 
Unto a foreign nation, that he made 
Philaster hide himself? 

Are. He cannot know it. 

Phi. Though it should sleep for ever to the world. 
It is a simple sin to hide myself, 
AVhich will for ever on my conscience lie. 

Are. Then, good Philaster, give him scope and way 
In what he says ; for he is apt to speak 
What you are loath to hear : for my sake, do. 180 

Phi. I will. . • 

^ This pretty and picturesque passage — probably by Fletcher — is a 
good specimen of that romantic quality in Beaumont and Fletcher's works 
to which reference has been made in the Preface. 



282 PHIL ASTER. [ACT I. 

Re-e?iter Lady with Pharamond. 

Fha. My princely mistress, as true lovers ought, 
I come to kiss these fair hands, and to show, \_Exit Lady. 
In outward ceremonies, the dear love 
Writ in my heart. 

Phi. If I shall have an answer no directlier, 
I am gone. 

Fha. To what would he have answer? 

Are. To his claim unto the kingdom. 

Fha. Sirrah, I forbare you before the King 190 

Fhi. Good sir, do so still : I would not talk with you. 

Fha. But now the time is fitter : do but offer 
To make mention of right to any kingdom. 
Though it be scarce habitable 

Fhi. Good sir, let me go. 

Fha. And by my sword 

Fhi. Peace, Pharamond ! if thou — 

Are. Leave us, Philaster. 

Fhi. I have done. \_Going. 

Fha. You are gone ! by Heaven I'll fetch you back. 200 

Fhi. You shall not need. \_Returning. 

Fha. What now? 

Fhi. Know, Pharamond, 
I loathe to brawl with such a blast as thou. 
Who art nought but a valiant voice ; but if 
Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say, 
"Thou wert," and not lament it. 

Fha. Do you shght • 

My greatness so, and in the chamber of 
The princess? 210 

Fhi. It is a place to which I must confess 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 283 

I owe a reverence ; but were't the church, 

Ay, at the altar, there's no place so safe. 

Where thou dar'st injure me, but I dare kill thee : 

And for your greatness, know, sir, I can grasp 

You and your greatness thus, thus into nothing. 

Give not a word, not a word back ! Farewell. \_Exif. 

Pha. 'Tis an odd fellow, madam ; we must stop 
His mouth with some office when we are married. 

Are. You were best make him your controller. 220 

Pha. I think he would discharge it well. But, madam, 
I hope our hearts are knit ; and yet, so slow 
The ceremonies of state are, that 'twill be long 
Before our hands be so. If then you please, 
Being agreed in heart, let us not wait 
For dreaming form, but take a little stolen 
Delights, and so prevent ^ our joys to come. 

Are. If you dare speak such thoughts, 
I must withdraw in honour. \_Exit. 

Pha. The constitution of my body will never hold out 
till the wedding ; I must seek elsewhere. \^Exit. 231 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — An Aparfmeftf in the Palace. 

Enter Philaster and Bellario. 

Phi. And thou shalt find her honourable, boy ; 
Full of regard unto thy tender youth. 
For thine own modesty ; and, for my sake, 

1 Outstrip, forestall, anticipate ; cf. Twelfth Night, iii, i, 94 ; Hamler, ii, 
2, 305. 



284 PHILASTER. [ACT II. 

Apter to give than thou wilt be to ask, 
Ay, or deserve. 

Bel. Sir, you did take me up 
When I was nothing; and only yet am something 
By being yours. You trusted me unknown ; 
And that which you were apt to conster ^ 
A simple innocence in me, perhaps 10 

Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy 
Hardened in Ues and theft : yet ventured you 
To part my miseries and me ; for which, 
I never can expect to serve a lady 
That bears more honour in her breast than you. 

Phi. But, boy, it will prefer thee. Thou art young. 
And bear'st a childish overflowing love 
To them that clap thy cheeks and speak thee fair yet ; 
But when thy judgment comes to rule those passions, 
Thou wilt remember best those careful friends 20 

That placed thee in the noblest way of life. 
She is a princess I prefer thee to. 

Bel. In that small time that I have seen the world, 
I never knew a man hasty to part with 
A servant he thought trusty : I remember. 
My father would prefer the boys he kept 
To greater men than he ; but did it not 
Till they were grown too saucy for himself. 

Phi. Why, gentle boy, I find no fault at all 
In thy behaviour. 30 

Bel. Sir, if I have made 
A fault in ignorance, instruct my youth : 
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn ; 
Age and experience will adorn my mind 

1 Construe. 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 285 

With larger knowledge ; and if I have done 

A wilful fault, think me not past all hope 

For once. What master holds so strict a hand 

Over his boy, that he will part with him 

Without one warning? Let me be corrected, 

To break my stubbornness, if it be so, 40 

Rather than turn me off; and I shall mend. 

Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay. 
That, trust me, I could weep to part with thee. 
Alas, I do not turn thee off ! thou know'st 
It is my business that doth call thee hence ; 
And when thou art with her, thou dwell'st with me. 
Think so, and 'tis so : and when time is full. 
That thou hast well discharged this heavy trust, 
Laid on so weak a one, I will again 

With joy receive thee ; as I live, I will ! 50 

Nay, weep not, gentle boy. 'Tis more than time 
Thou didst attend the princess. 

Bel. I am gone. 
But since I am to part with you, my lord, 
And none knows whether I shall live to do 
More service for you, take this httle prayer : 
Heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your designs ! 
May sick men, if they have your wish, be well ; 
And Heaven hate those you curse, though I be one ! 

l^Exit. 

Phi. The love of boys unto their lords is strange ; 60 

I have read wonders of it : yet this boy 
For my sake (if a man may judge by looks 
And speech) would out-do story. I may see 
A day to pay him for his loyalty. \^Exit. 



286 PHILASTER. [ACT II. 

Scene II. — A Gallery in the Palace. 

Enter Pharamond. 

Pha. Why should these ladies stay so long? They must 
come this way : I know the queen employs 'em not ; for 
the reverend mother sent me word, they would all be for the 
garden. If they should all prove honest ^ now, I were in a 
fair taking ; I was never so long without sport in my life, 
and, in my.conscience, 'tis not my fault. Oh, for our coun- 
try ladies ! 

Enter Galatea. 

{Aside) Here's one bolted ; I'll hound at her. Madam ! 

Gal. Your grace ! 

Pha. Shall I not be a trouble? lo 

Gal. Not to me, sir. 

Pha. Nay, nay, you are too quick. By this sweet hand — 

Gal. You'll be forsworn, sir; 'tis but an old glove. If 
you will talk at distance, I am for you : but, good prince, 
be not ribald, nor do not brag ; these two I bar ; and then, 
I think, I shall have sense enough to answer all the weighty 
apophthegms your royal blood shall manage. 

Pha. Dear lady, can you love ? i8 

Gal. Dear prince ! how dear? I ne'er cost you a coach 
yet, nor put you to the dear repentance of a banquet. 
Here's no scarlet, sir, to blush the sin out it was given for. 
This wire ^ mine own hair covers ; and this face has been so 
far from being dear to any, that it ne'er cost penny painting ; 
and, for the rest of my poor wardrobe, such as you see, it 
leaves no handle behind it, to make the jealous mercer's 
wife curse our good doings. 

1 Chaste. ^ Women then used wire frames in their head-dresses. 



SCENE ii.j PHILASTER. 287 

Pha. You mistake me, lady. 

Gal. Lord, I do so : would you or I could help it ! 

Pha. You're very dangerous bitter, like a potion. 

Gal. No, sir, I do not mean to purge you, though 30 

I mean to purge a little time on you. 

Pha. Do ladies of this country use to give 
No more respect to men of my full being? 

Gal. Full being ! I understand you not, unless your grace 
means growing to fatness ; and then your only remedy (upon 
my knowledge, prince) is, in a morning, a cup ofrieat white 
wine brewed with carduus,^ then fast till supper ; about eight 
you may eat ; use exercise, and keep a sparrow-hawk ; you can 
shoot in a tiller ^ : but, of all, your grace must fly phlebotomy,^ 
fresh pork, conger, and clarified whey ; they are all duUers of 
the vital spirits. 41 

Pha. Lady, you talk of nothing all this while. 

Gal. 'Tis very true, sir ; I talk of you. 

Pha. {aside). This is a crafty wench ; I like her wit well ; 
'twill be rare to stir up a leaden appetite : shc'.i a Danae, 
and must be courted in a shower of gold. — Madam, look 
here ; all these, and more than 

Gal. What have you there, my lord ? gold ! now, as I 
live, 'tis fair gold ! You would have silver for it, to play with 
the pages : you could not have taken me in a worse time ; 
but, if you have present use, my lord, I'll send my man with 
silver and keep your gold for you. [Jakes gold. 52 

Pha. Lady, lady ! 

Gal. She's coming, sir, behind, will take white money.'* — 
{Asid£) Yet for all this I'll match ye. 

[Exit behind the hangings. 

1 Thistle. 8 Blood-letting. 

2 The handle of a cross-bow. ■* Cant term for silver money. 



288 PHILASTER. [act II. 

Pha. If there be but two such more in this kingdom, and 
near the court, we may even hang up our harps. Ten such 
camphire constitutions^ as this would call the golden age 
again in question ; and what a mischief that would breed, 
let all consider ! 60 

Enter Megra. 

(^Aside) Here's another : if she be of the same last, the 
devil shall pluck her on* — Many fair mornings, lady. 

Meg. As_ many mornings bring as many days. 
Fair, sweet and hopeful to your grace ! 

Pha. {aside) . She gives good words yet ; sure this wench 
is free. — 
If your more serious business do not call you. 
Let me hold quarter with you ; we will talk 
An hour out quickly. 

Meg. What would your grace talk of? 

Pha. Of some such pretty subject as yourself: 70 

I'll go no further than your eye, or lip ; 
There's theme enough for one man for an age. 

Meg. Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even. 
Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, and red enough. 
Or my glass wrongs me. 

Pha. Oh, they are two twinned cherries dyed in blushes, 
Which those fair suns above with their bright beams 
Reflect upon and ripen. Sweetest beauty. 
Bow down those branches, that the longing taste 
Of the faint looker-on may meet those blessings, 80 

And taste and live. 

Meg. Oh, delicate sweet prince ! — 
(Aside) She that hath snow enough about her heart 

1 Cold-blooded. 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 289 

To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off, 
May be a nun without probation, — Sir, 
You have in such neat poetry gathered a kiss. 
That if I had but five lines of that number. 
Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend 
Your forehead or your cheeks, and kiss you too. 

Pha. Do it in prose ; you cannot miss it, madam. 90 

Meg. I shall, I shall. 

Pha. By my hfe, but you shall not ; 
I'll prompt you first. {Kisses her.) Can you do it now? 

Meg. Methinks 'tis easy, now you ha' done't before me ; 
But yet I should stick at it. 

Pha. Stick till to-morrow ; 
I'll never part you, sweetest. But we lose time : 
Can you love me ? 

Meg. Love you, my lord ! how would you have me love 
you ? 99 

Pha. I'll teach you in a short sentence, 'cause I will not 
load your memory : this is all ; love me, and go with me. 

Meg. 'Tis impossible. 

Pha. Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour. 

Meg. Why, prince, you have a lady of your own 
That yet wants teaching. 

Pha. I'll sooner teach a mare the old measures,^ than 
teach her. 

Meg. By my honour, that's a foul fault, indeed ; 
But time and your good help will wear it out, sir. 
Has your grace seen the court-star, Galatea? no 

Pha. Out upon her ! she's as cold of her favour as an 
apoplex : she sailed by but now. 

Meg. And how do you hold her wit, sir? 

1 Stately dances. 



290 PHILASTER. [ACT II. 

Pha. I hold her wit? The strength of all the guard 
cannot hold it, if they were tied to it ; she would blow 'em 
out of the kingdom. They talk of Jupiter; he's but a 
squib-cracker to her : look well about you, and you may 
find a tongue-bolt. But speak, sweet lady, shall I be freely 
welcome ? 

Meg. Whither? 120 

Pha. To your room. If you mistrust my faith, you do me 
the unnoblest wrong. 

Meg. I dare not, prince, I dare not. 

Pha. Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal 
'em ; and what you dare imagine you can want, I'll furnisli 
you withal : give two hours to your thoughts every morning 
about it. Come, I know you are bashful ; 
Speak in my ear, will you be mine ? Keep this, 
And with it me : soon I will visit you. [ Gives her a ring. 

Meg. My lord, 130 

My chamber's most unsafe ; but when 'tis night, 
I'll find some means to slip into your lodging ; 
Till when 

Pha. Till when, this and my heart go with thee ! 

\_Exeunt severally. 

Re-enter Galatea. 

Gal. Oh, thou pernicious petticoat prince ! are these 
your virtues? Well, if I do not lay a train to blow your 
sport up, I am no woman : and, Lady Towsabel, I'll fit 
you for't. \_Exit. 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER. 291 

Scene III. — Arethusa's Apartmeni in the Palace. 

Enter Arethusa ajid a Lady. 

Are. Where's the boy? 
Lady. Within, madam. 

Aj^e. Gave you him gold to buy him clothes ? 
Lady. I did. 

Are. And has he done't? 
Lady. Yes, madam. 

Are. 'Tis a pretty sad-talking boy, is it not ? 
Asked you his name? 
Lady. No, madam. 

Enter Galatea. 

Are. Oh, you are welcome. What good news ? 10 

Gal. As good as any one can tell your grace, 
That says, she has done that you would have wished. 

Aj'e. Hast thou discovered ? 

Gal. I have strained a point 
Of modesty for you. 

A?'e. I prithee, how? 

Gal. In listening after scandal. I see, let a lady live never 
so modestly, she shall be sure to find a lawful time to hearken 
after scandal. Your prince, brave Pharamond, was so hot 
on't ! 20 

A7'e. With whom? 

Gal. Why, with the lady I suspected : 
I can tell the time and place. 

Are. Oh, when, and where? 

Gal. To-night, his lodging. 

Are. Run thyself into the presence ; mingle there again 



292 PHILASTER. [ACT II. 

With Other ladies ; leave the rest to me. \_Exit Galatea. 

(^Aside) If destiny (to whom we dare not say, 

"Why didst thou this? ") have not decreed it so, 

In lasting leaves (whose smallest characters 30 

Were never altered yet), this match shall break. 

Where's the boy? 

Lady. Here, madam. 

Enter Bellario, richly dressed. 

Are. Sir, 
You are sad to change your service ; is't not so ? 

Bel. Madam, I have not changed ; I wait on you. 
To do him service. 

Are. Thou disclaim'st ^ in me. 
Tell me thy name. 

Bel. Bellario. 40 

Are. Thou canst sing and play? 

Bel. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can. 

Are. Alas, what kind of grief can thy years know? 
Hadst thou a curst ^ master when thou went'st to school ? 
Thou art not capable of other grief, 
Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be 
When no breath troubles them : believe me, boy, 
Care seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes. 
And builds himself caves, to abide in them. 
Come, sir, tell me truly, does your lord love me ? 50 

Bel. Love, madam ! I know not what it is. 

Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet knew'st love ? 
Thou art deceived, boy. Does he speak of me 
As if he wished me well ? 

Bel If it be love 

1 Renounce any claim in. 2 Cross. 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 293 

To forget all respect of his own friends 

In thinking of your face ; if it be love 

To sit crossed-armed and sigh away the day, 

Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud 

And hastily as men i' the streets do fire ; 60 

If it be love to weep himself away 

When he but hears of any lady dead 

Or killed, because it might have been your chance ; 

If, when he goes to rest (which will not be), 

'Twixt every prayer he says, to name you once, 

As others drop a bead, be to be in love. 

Then, madam, I dare swear he loves you. 

Are. Oh, you're a cunning boy, and taught to he 
For your lord's credit ! but thou know'st a lie 
That bears this sound is welcomer to me 70 

Than any truth that says he loves me not. 
Lead the way, boy. — Do you attend me too. — 
'Tis thy lord's business hastes me thus. Away ! \_Exeiint. 



Scene IV. — Before Pharamond's Lodging in the Court of 
the Palace. 

Enter Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, Megra, and Galatea. 

Dion. Come, ladies, shall we talk a round ? As men 
Do walk a mile, women should talk an hour 
After supper : 'tis their exercise. 

Gal. 'Tis late. 

Meg. 'Tis all 
My eyes will do to lead me to my bed. 

Gal. I fear, they are so heavy, you'll scarce find 
The way to your own lodging with 'em to-night. 



294 PHILASTER. [ACT II. 

• Enter Pharamond. 

Thra. The prince ! 

Pha. Not a-bed, ladies? you're good sitters-up : lo 

What think you of a pleasant dream, to last 
Till morning? 

Meg. I should choose, my lord, a pleasing wake before it. 

Enter Arethusa and Bellario. 

Are. 'Tis well, my lord ; you're courting of these ladies. — 
Is't not late, gentlemen ? 

Cle. Yes, madam. 

Are. Wait you there. \^Exit. 

Meg. {aside^. She's jealous, as I live. Look you on, my 
lord. 
The princess has a Hylas,^ an Adonis. 20 

Pha. His form is angel-like. 

Meg. Why, this is he that must, when you are wed, 
Sit by your pillow, like young Apollo, with 
His hand and voice binding your thoughts in sleep ; 
The princess does provide him for you and for herself. 

Pha. I find no music in these boys. 

Meg. Nor I : 
They can do Uttle, and that small they do, 
They have not wit to hide. 

Dion. Serves he the princess? 30 

Thra. Yes. 

Dion. 'Tis a sweet boy : how brave ^ she keeps him ! 

Pha, Ladies all, good rest ; I mean to kill a buck 
To-morrow morning, ere you've done your dreams. 

1 A beautiful youth, beloved by Hercules, whom he accompanied on the 
Argonautic expedition. 

2 Finely dressed. 



PHILASTER. 



>9S 



Meg. i\\\ happiness attend your grace ! {Exit Phara- 
MOND.) Gentlemen, good rest. — Come, shall we go to bed? 

Gal. Yes. — All good night. 

Dion. May your dreams be true to you ! — 

{^Exeunt Galatea a7id Megr.i. 
AVhat shall we do, gallants? 'tis late. The King 
Is up still : see, he comes ; a guard along with him. 40 

Enter King with Arethusa, Guards and Attendants. 

King. Look your intelligence be true. 

Are. Upon my life, it is : and I do hope 
Your highness will not tie me to a man 
That in the heat of wooing throws me off. 
And takes another. 

Dion. What should this mean? 

Xing. If it be true. 
That lady had better have embraced 
Cureless diseases. Get you to your rest : 
You shall be righted. \_Exeunt Arethusa and Bellario. 50 

— Gentlemen, draw near ; 
We shall employ you. Is young Pharamond 
Come to his lodging? 

Dion. I saw him enter there. 

King. Haste, some of you, and cunningly discover 
If Megra be in her lodging. [_Exit. 

Cle. Sir, 
She parted hence but now, with other ladies. 

King. If she be there, we shall not need to make 
A vain discovery of our suspicion. 60 

{Aside) You gods, I see that who unrighteously 
Holds wealth or state from others shall be cursed 
In that which meaner men are blest withal : 



296 PHILASTER. [ACT II. 

Ages to come shall know no male of him 

Left to inherit, and his name shall be 

Blotted from earth ; if he have any child, 

It shall be crossly matched ; the gods themselves 

Shall sow wild strife betwixt her lord and her. 

Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sin 

I have committed ; let it not fall 70 

Upon this under-standing child of mine ! 

She has not broke your laws. But how can I 

Look to be heard of gods that must be just, 

Praying upon the ground I hold by wrong? 

Re-e7ite7- Dion. 

Dion. Sir, I have asked, and her women swear she is 
within ; but they, I think, are wicked. I told 'em, I must 
speak with her ; they laughed, and said, their lady lay speech- 
less. I said, my business was important ; they said, their 
lady was about it. I grew hot, and cried, my business was 
a matter that concerned life and death ; they answered, so 
was sleeping, at which their lady was. I urged again, she 
had scarce time to be so since last I saw her : they smiled 
again, and seemed to instruct me that sleeping was nothing 
but lying down and winking. Answers more direct I could 
not get : in short, sir, I think she is not there. 

King. 'Tis then no time to dally. — You o' the guard, 
Wait at the back door of the prince's lodging. 
And see that none pass thence, upon your lives. — 

\^Exeunf Guards. 
Knock, gentlemen ; knock loud ; louder yet. 
What, has their pleasure taken off their hearing ? — 90 

I'll break your meditations. — Knock again. — 
Not yet ? I do not think he sleeps, having this 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 297 

'Lamm by him. — Once more. — Pharamond ! prince ! 

[Pharamond appears at a wtJidow. 

Pha. What saucy groom knocks at this dead of night ? 
Where be our waiters ? By my vexed soul, 
He meets his death that meets me, for this boldness. 

King. Prince, prince, you wrong your thoughts ; we are 
your friends : 
Come down. 

Pha. The King ! 100 

King. The same, sir. Come down, sir : 
We have cause of present counsel with you. 

Ejite}" Pharamond below. 

Pha. If your grace please 
To use me, I'll attend you to your chamber. 

King. No, 'tis too late, prince ; I'll make bold with yours. 

Pha. I have some private reasons to myself 
Make me unmannerly, and say you cannot. — 
Nay, press not forward, gentlemen ; he must 
Come through my life that comes here. 

King. Sir, be resolved ^ I must and will come. — Enter. 

Pha. I will not be dishonoured : m 

He that enters, enters upon his death. 
Sir, 'tis a sign you make no stranger of me. 
To bring these renegadoes to my chamber 
At these unseasoned hours. 

King. Why do you 
Chafe yourself so ? you are not wronged nor shall be ; 
Only I'll search your lodging, for some cause 
To ourself known. — Enter, I say. 

Pha. I say, no. [Megra appears at a window. 

■^ Persuaded. 



298 PHILASTER. [ACT II. 

Meg. Let 'em enter, prince, let 'em enter ; 121 

I know their business ; 
'Tis the poor breaking of a lady's honour 
They hunt so hotly after ; let 'em enjoy it. — 
You have your business, gentlemen ; I was here. — 
Oh, my lord the King, this is not noble in you 
To make public the weakness of a woman ! 

King. Come down. 

Meg. I dare, my lord. Your hootings and your clamours, 
Your private whispers and your broad fleerings, 130 

Can no more vex my soul than this base carriage : 
But I have vengeance yet in store for some 
Shall, in the most contempt you can have of me, 
Be joy and nourishment. 

King. Will you come down ? 

Meg. Yes, to laugh at your worst ; but I shall wring you, 
If my skill fail me not. \_Exit above. 

King. Sir, I must dearly chide you for this looseness ; 
You have wronged a worthy lady : but, no more. — 
Conduct him to my lodging and to bed. 140 

\_Exeimf Pharamond ajid Attendants. 

Enter Megra below. 

King. Now, lady of honour, where's your honour now? 
No man can fit your palate but the prince : 
Thou most ill-shrouded rottenness, thou piece 
Made by a painter and a 'pothecary. 
Thou troubled sea of lust, thou wilderness 
Inhabited by wild thoughts, thou swoln cloud 
Of infection, thou ripe mine of all diseases. 
Thou all-sin, all-hell, and last, all-devils, tell me, 
Had you none to pull on with your courtesies 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 299 

But he that must be mine, and wrong my daughter? 150 

By all the gods ! all these, and all the pages, 

And all the court, shall hoot thee through the court. 

Fling rotten oranges, make ribald rhymes. 

And sear thy name with candles upon walls ! 

Do you laugh, Lady Venus ? 

Meg. Faith, sir, you must pardon me ; 
I cannot choose but laugh to see you merry. 
If you do this, O King ! nay, if you dare do it. 
By all those gods you swore by, and as many 
More of mine own, I will have fellows, and such 160 

Fellows in it, as shall make noble mirth ! 
The princess, your dear daughter, shall stand by me 
On walls, and sung in ballads, any thing : 
Urge me no more ; I know her and her haunts. 
Her lays, leaps, and outlays, and will discover all ; 
Nay, will dishonour her. I know the boy 
She keeps ; a handsome boy, about eighteen ; 
Know what she does with him, where, and when. 
Come, sir, you put me to a woman's madness, 
The glory of a fury ; and if I do not 170 

Do't to the height 

King. What boy is this she raves at ? 

Meg. Alas ! good-minded prince, you know not these 
things ! 
I am loath to reveal 'em. Keep this fault. 
As you would keep your health, from the hot air 
Of the corrupted people, or, by Heaven, 
I will not fall alone. What I have known 
Shall be as pubUc as a print ; all tongues 
Shall speak it as they do the language they 
Are born in, as free and commonly ; I'll set it, 180 



300 PHILASTER. [act II. 

Like a prodigious star, for all to gaze at, 

And so high and glowing, that other kingdoms far and foreign 

Shall read it there, nay, travel with 't, till they find 

No tongue to make it more, nor no more people ; 

And then behold the fall of your fair princess ! ^ 

King. Has she a boy ? 

Cle. So please your grace, I have seen a boy wait on her, 
A fair boy. 

King. Go, get you to your quarter : 
For this time I will study to forget you. 190 

Meg. Do you study to forget me, and I'll study 
To forget you. [^Exeunt King and Megra, sevei-ally. 

Cle. Why, here's a male spirit fit for Hercules. If ever 
there be Nine Worthies of women, this wench shall ride 
astride and be their captain. 

Dion. Sure, she has a garrison of devils in her tongue, she 
uttereth such balls of wild-fire : she has so nettled the King, 
that all the doctors in the country will scarce cure him. 
That boy was a strange-found-out antidote to cure her infec- 
tion ; that boy, that princess' boy ; that brave, chaste, vir- 
tuous lady's boy ; and a fair boy, a well-spoken boy ! All 
these considered, can make nothing else — but there I leave 
you, gentlemen. 203 

Thra. Nay, we'll go wander with you, \_ExeunL 

1 " This passage is one of those instances of a magnificent idea spoiled by 
mislocation, which are too often found in Beaumont and Pletcher. And 
observe the consequent anti-climax. A bad woman is threatening a father 
with defamation of his child ; and she raises a phenomenon in the heavens 
which of itself is truly grand and awful, a spectacle for a world, in order to 
represent what at the utmost could be nothing but a scandal confined to a 
particular country. A comet leads kingdoms forth to travel by its light, in 
order to arrive at nothing greater than the fall of a princess, by a lie about 
a boy." — Leigh Hunt. 



SCENE 1.] PHILASTER. 301 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — The Court of the Palace. 

Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. 

Cle. Nay, doubtless, 'tis true. 

Dion. Ay ; and 'tis the gods 
That raised this punishment, to scourge the King 
With his own issue. Is it not a shame 
For us that should write noble in the land, 
For us that should be freemen, to behold 
A man that is the bravery of his age, 
Philaster, pressed down from his royal right 
By this regardless King ? and only look 
And see the sceptre ready to be cast 
Into the hands of that lascivious lady 
That dotes on that smooth boy, now to be married 
To yon strange prince, who, but that people please 
To let him be a prince, is born a slave 
In that which should be his most noble part. 
His mind? 

Thra. That man that would not stir with you 
To aid Philaster, let the gods forget 
That such a creature walks upon the earth ! 

Cle. Philaster is too backward in't himself. 
The gentry do await it, and the people, 
Against their nature, are all bent for him, 
And hke a field of standing corn, that's moved 
With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way. 



302 PHILASTER. [ACT III. 

Dion. The only cause that draws Philaster back 
From this attempt is the fair princess' love, 
Which he admires, and we can now confute. 

Thra. Perhaps he'll not believe it. 

Dion. Why, gentlemen, 
'Tis without question so. 30 

Cle. Ay, 'tis past speech. 
She lives dishonestly : but how shall we, 
If he be curious,^ work upon his faith ? 

Thra. We are all satisfied within ourselves. 

Dion. Since it is true, and tends to his own good, 
I'll make this new report to be my knowledge ; 
I'll say I know it ; nay, I'll swear I saw it. 

Cle. It will be best. 

Thra. 'Twill move him. 

Dion. Here he comes. 40 

Enter Philaster. 

Good morrow to your honour : we have spent 
Some time in seeking you. 

Phi. My worthy friends. 
You that can keep your memories to know 
Your friend in miseries, and cannot frown 
On men disgraced for virtue, a good day 
Attend you all ! What service may I do 
Worthy your acceptation? 

Dion. My good lord. 
We come to urge that virtue, which we know 50 

Lives in your breast, forth. Rise, and make a head : 
The nobles and the people are all dulled 
With this usurping King ; and not a man, 

1 Scrupulous. 



PHILASTER. 



3^3 



That ever heard the word, or knew such a thing 
As virtue, but will second your attempts. 

F/ii. How honourable is this love in you 
To me that have deserved none ! Know, my friends, 
(You, that were born to shame your poor Philaster 
With too much courtesy,) I could afford 
To melt myself in thanks : but my designs 60 

Are not yet ripe : suffice it, that ere long 
I shall employ your loves ; but yet the time 
Is short of what I would. 

Dion. The time is fuller, sir, than you expect ; 
That which hereafter will not, perhaps, be reached 
By violence may now be caught. As for the King, 
You know the people have long hated him ; 
But now the princess, whom they loved 

Phi. Why, what of her ? 

Dion. Is loathed as much as he. 70 

Phi. By what strange means ? 

Dion. She's known unchaste. 

Phi. Thou liest. 

Dion. My lord 

Phi. Thou liest, 

\_Offers to draw his sword : they hold him. 
And thou shalt feel it ! I had thought thy mind 
Had been of honour. Thus to rob a lady 
Of her good name, is an infectious sin 
Not to be pardoned : be it false as hell, 
'Twill never be redeemed, if it be sown 80 

Amongst the people, fruitful to increase 
All evil they shall hear. Let me alone 
That I may cut oft falsehood whilst it springs ! 
Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man 



304 PHILASTER. [ACT III. 

That utters this, and I will scale them all, 
And from the utmost top fall on his neck, 
Like thunder from a cloud. 

Dion. This is most strange : 
Sure, he does love her. 

Phi. I do love fair truth : 90 

She is my mistress, and who injures her 
Draws vengeance from me. Sirs, let go my arms. 

Thra. Nay, good my lord, be patient. 
Cle. Sir, remember this is your honoured friend. 
That comes to do his service, and will show you 
Why he uttered this. 

Phi. I ask you pardon, sir ; 
My zeal to truth made me unmannerly : 
Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you, 
Behind your back, untruly, I had been 100 

As much distempered and enraged as now. 

Dion. But this, my lord, is truth. 

Phi. Oh, say not so ! 
Good sir, forbear to say so ; 'tis then truth, 
That all womankind is false : urge it no more ; 
It is impossible. Why should you think 
The princess hght? 

Dion. Why, she was taken at it. 

Phi. 'Tis false ! by Heaven, 'tis false ! it cannot be ! 
Can it? Speak, gentlemen; for love of truth, speak ! no 
It's possible ? Can women all be damned ? 

Dion. Why, no, my lord. 

Phi. Why, then, it cannot be. 

Dion. And she was taken with her boy. 

Phi. What boy? 

Dion. A page, a boy that serves her. 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 305 

Phi. Oh, good gods ! 
A little boy ? 

Dion. Ay ; know you him my lord ? 

Phi, {aside) . Hell and sin know him ! — Sir, you are 
deceived ; 120 

You are abused, and so is she, and I. 

Dion. How you, my lord ? 

Phi. Why, all the world's abused 
In an unjust report. 

Dion. Oh, noble sir, your virtues 
Cannot look into the subtle thoughts of woman ! 
In short, my lord, I took them ; I myself. 

Phi. Now, all the devils, thou didst ! Fly from my rage ! 
Would thou hadst ta'en devils engendering plagues. 
When thou did'st take them ! Hide thee from my eyes ! 130 
Would thou hadst taken thunder on thy breast. 
When thou didst take them ; or been strucken dumb 
For ever ; that this foul deed might have slept 
In silence ! 

Thra. Have you known him so ill-tempered ? 

Cle. Never before. 

Phi. The winds, that are let loose 
From the four several corners of the earth. 
And spread themselves all over sea and land. 
Kiss not a chaste one. What friend bears a sword 140 

To run me through? 

Dion. Why, my lord, are you 
So moved at this ? 

Phi. When any fall from virtue, 
I am distract ; I have an interest in't. 

Dion. But, good my lord, recall yourself, and think 
What's best to be done. 



306 PHILASTER. [ACT III 

Phi. I thank you ; I will do it : 
Please you to leave me ; I'll consider of it. 
To-morrow I will find your lodging forth, 150 

And give you answer. 

Dion. All the gods direct you 
The readiest way ! 

Thra. He was extreme impatient. 

Cle. It was his virtue and his noble mind. 

\_Exeu7it Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. 

Phi. I had forgot to ask him where he took them ; 
I'll follow him. Oh, that I had a sea 
Within my breast, to quench the fire I feel ! 
More circumstances will but fan this fire : 
It more afflicts me now, to know by whom 160 

This deed is done, than simply that 'tis done ; 
And he that tells me this, is honourable. 
As far from lies as she is far from truth. 
Oh, that, like beasts, we could not grieve ourselves 
With that we see not ! Bulls and rams will fight 
To keep their females, standing in their sight ; 
But take 'em from them, and you take at once 
Their spleens away ; and they will fall again 
Unto their pastures, growing fresh and fat ; 
And taste the waters of the springs as sweet 170 

As 'twas before, finding no start in sleep : 
But miserable man 

Enter Bellario. 

(Aside) See, see, you gods, 
He walks still ; and the face you let him wear 
When he was innocent is still the same. 
Not blasted ! Is this justice? do you mean 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 307 

To intrap mortality, that you allow 
Treason so smooth a brow ? I cannot now 
Think he is guilty. 

Bel. Health to you, my lord ! 
The princess doth commend her love, her life, 180 

And this, unto you. \^Gives a letter. 

Phi. Oh, Bellario, 
Now I perceive she loves me ! she does show it 
In loving thee, my boy : she has made thee brave. 

Bel. My lord, she has attired me past my wish. 
Past my desert ; more fit for her attendant. 
Though far unfit for me who do attend. 

Phi. Thou art grown courtly, boy. — Oh, let all women, 
That love black deeds, learn to dissemble here, 
I^ere, by this paper ! She does write to me 190 

As if her heart were mines of adamant 
To all the world besides ; but, unto me, 
A maiden-snow that melted with my looks. — 
Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee ? 
For I shall guess her love to me by that. 

Bel. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were 
Something allied to her, or had preserved 
Her life three times by my fidelity ; 
As mothers fond do use their only sons, 
As I'd use one that's left unto my trust, 200 

For whom my life should pay if he met harm, 
So she does use me. 

Phi. Why, this is wondrous well : 
But what kind language does she feed thee with? 

Bel. Why, she does tell me she will trust my youth 
With all her loving secrets, and does call me 
Her pretty servant ; bids me weep no more 



308 PHILASTER. LACT III. 

For leaving you ; she'll see my services 

Regarded : and such words of that soft strain, 

That I am nearer weeping when she ends 210 

Than ere she spake. 

Phi. This is much better still. 

Bel. Are you not ill, my lord ? 

Phi. 111? no, Bellario. 

Bd. Methinks your words 
Fall not from off your tongue so evenly. 
Nor is there in your looks that quietness 
That I was wont to see. 

Phi. Thou art deceived, boy : 
And she strokes thy head? 220 

Bel. Yes. 

Phi. And she does clap thy cheeks ? 

Bel. She does, my lord. 

Phi. And she does kiss thee, boy ? ha ! 

Bel. How, my lord ? 

Phi. She kisses thee ? 

Bel. Not so, my lord. 

Phi. Come, come, I know she does. 

Bel. No, by my life. 

Phi. Why then she does not love me. Come, she does, 
I bade her do it ; I charged her, by all charms 231 

Of love between us, by the hope of peace 
We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights. 
Tell me, gentle boy. 

Is she not parallelless ? is not her breath 
Sweet as Arabian winds when fruits are ripe ? 
Are not her breasts two liquid ivory balls ? 
Is she not all a lasting mine of joy? 

Bel. Ay, now I see why my disturbed thoughts 



SCENE 1.] PHILASTER, 309 

Were so perplexed : when first I went to her, 240 

My heart held augury. You are abused ; 

Some villain has abused you : I do see 

Whereto you tend. Fall rocks upon his head 

That put this to you ! 'tis some subtle train 

To bring that noble frame of yours to nought. 

Phi. Thou think'st I will be* angry with thee. Come, 
Thou shalt know all my drift : I hate her more 
Than I love happiness, and placed thee there 
To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds. 
Hast thou discovered ? is she fallen to lust, 250 

As I would wish her? Speak some comfort to me. 

Bel. My lord, you did mistake the boy you sent : 
Had she the lust of sparrows or of goats. 
Had she a sin that way, hid from the world. 
Beyond the name of lust, I would not aid 
Her base desires : but what I came to know 
As servant to her, I would not reveal. 
To make my life last ages. 

Phi. Oh, my heart ! 
This is a salve worse than the main disease. 260 

Tell me thy thoughts ; for -I will know the least 

\^Draws his sword. 
That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart 
To know it : I will see thy thoughts as plain 
As I do now thy face. 

Bel. Why, so you do. 
She is (for aught I know) by all the gods, \^Kneels. 

As chaste as ice ! but were she foul as hell. 
And I did know it thus, the breath of kings, 
The points of swords, tortures, nor bulls of brass. 
Should draw it from me. 270 



3IO PHILASTER. [act hi. 

Phi. Then it is no time 
To dally with thee ; I will take thy life, 
For I do hate thee : I could curse thee now. 

Bel. If you do hate, you could not curse me worse ; 
The gods have not a punishment in store 
Greater for me than is your hate. 

Phi. Fie, fie, 
So young and so dissembhng ! Tell me when 
And where thou didst betray her, or let plagues 
Fall on me, if I destroy thee not ! 280 

Bel. Heaven knows I never did ; and when I lie 
To save my life, may I live long and loathed ! 
Hew me asunder, and, whilst I can think, 
I'll love those pieces you have cut away 
Better than those that grow, and kiss those hmbs 
Because you made 'em so. 

Phi. Fear'st thou not death ^ 
Can boys contemn that ? 

Bel. Oh, what boy \s, he 
Can be content to live to be a man, 290 

That sees the best of men thus passionate. 
Thus without reason ? 

Phi. Oh, but thou dost not know 
What 'tis to die. 

Bel. Yes, I do know, my lord : 
'Tis less than to be born ; a lasting sleep ; 
A quiet resting from all jealousy, 
A thing we all pursue ; I know, besides. 
It is but giving over of a game 
That must be lost.^ 300 

1 The references to death, in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, are 
almost invariably noble. Cf. Thierry and Theodoret, iv, i ; Valentinian, 1, 
3, and iv, 4. 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 31 1 

Phi, But there are pains, false boy, 
For perjured souls : think but on these, and then 
Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all. 

Bel. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, 
If I be perjured, or have ever thought 
Of that you charge me with ! If I be false, 
Send me to suffer in those punishments 
You speak of; kill me ! 

Phi. Oh, what should I do ? 
Why, who can but believe him ? he does swear 310 

So earnestly, that if it were not true, 

The gods would not endure him. {^Sheathes his sword.) 
Rise, Bellario : [Bellario 7'ises. 

Thy protestations are so deep, and thou 
Dost look so truly when thou utter'st them, 
That, though I know 'em false as were my hopes, 
I cannot urge thee further. But thou wert 
To blame to injure me, for I must love 
Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon 
Thy tender youth : a love from me to thee 
Is firm, what'er thou dost : it troubles me 320 

That I have called the blood out of thy cheeks. 
That did so well become thee. But, good boy. 
Let me not see thee more : something is done 
That will distract me, that will make me mad. 
If I behold thee. If thou tender'st me, 
Let me not see thee. 

Bel. I will fly as far 
As there is morning, ere I give distaste 
To that most honoured mind. But through these tears. 
Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see 330 

A world of treason practised upon you. 



312 PHILASTER. [ACT III. 

And her, and me. Farewell for evermore ! 
If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead, 
And after find me loyal, let there be 
A tear shed from you in my memory, 
And I shall rest at peace. 

Phi. Blessing be with thee. 
Whatever thou deserv'st ! — {Exit Bellario.) Oh, where 

shall I 
Go bathe this body? Nature too unkind ; 
That made no medicine for a troubled mind ! \Exit. 340 



Scene II. — Arethusa's Apartment in the Palace, 

Enter Arethusa. 

Are. I marvel my boy comes not back again : 
But that I know my love will question him 
Over and over, — how I slept, waked, talked, 
How I remembered him when his dear name 
Was last spoke, and how, when I sighed, wept, sung, 
And ten thousand such, — I should be angry at his stay. 

Enter King. 

King. What, at your meditations ! Who attends you ? 
Are. None but my single self : I need no guard ; 
I do no wrong, nor fear none. 

King. Tell me, have you not a boy ? 

Are. Yes, sir. 

King. What kind of boy ? 

Are. A page, a waiting boy. 

King. A handsome boy ? 

Are. I think he be not ugly : 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 313 

Well qualified and dutiful I know him ; 
I took him not for beauty. 

King. He speaks and sings and plays? 

Are. Yes, sir. 

King. About eighteen? 20 

Are. I never asked his age. 

King. Is he full of service ? 

Are. By your pardon, why do you ask? 

King. Put him away. 

Are. Sir ! 

King. Put him away. He has done you that good service 
Shames me to speak of. 

Are. Good sir, let me understand you. 

King. If you fear me. 
Show it in duty ; put away that boy. 30 

Are. Let me have reason for it, sir, and then 
Your will is my command. 

King. Do not you blush to ask it ? Cast him off, 
Or I shall do the same to you. You're one 
Shame with me, and so near unto myself, 
That, by my life, I dare not tell myself 
What you, myself, have done. 

Are. What have I done, my lord? 

King. 'Tis a new language, that all love to learn : 
The common people speak it well already ; 40 

They need no grammar. Understand me well ; 
There be foul whispers stirring. Cast him off, 
And suddenly : do it ! Farewell. \_Exif. 

Are. Where may a maiden live securely free. 
Keeping her honour fair? Not with the living; 
They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams, 
And make 'em truths ; they draw a nourishment 



314 PHILASTER. [act III. 

Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces : 

And, when they see a virtue fortified 

Strongly above the battery of their tongues, 50 

Oh, how they cast to sink it ! and, defeated, 

(Soul-sick with poison) strike the monuments 

Where noble names lie sleeping, till they sweat, 

And the cold marble melt. 

Enter Philaster. 

Phi. Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest mistress ! 

Ai'e. Oh, my dearest servant,' I have a war within me ! 

Phi. He must be more than man that makes these crystals 
Run into rivers. Sweetest fair, the cause ? 
And, as I am your slave, tied to your goodness, 
Your creature, made again from what I was 60 

And newly spirited, I'll right your honour. 

A7'e. Oh, my best love, that boy ! 

Phi. What boy? 

Are. That pretty boy you gave me 

Phi. What of him ? 

Are. Must be no more mine. 

Phi. Why? 

Are. They are jealous of him. 

Phi. Jealous ! who? 

Are. The King. 70 

Phi. {aside). Oh, my fortune ! 
Then 'tis no idle jealousy. — Let him go. 

Are. Oh, cruel ! 
Are you hard-hearted too ? who shall now tell you 
How much I loved you ? who shall swear it to you, 
And weep the tears I send ? who shall now bring you 

1 Lover. 



PHILASTER. 



315 



Letters, rings, bracelets ? lose his health in service ? 

Wake tedious nights in stories of your praise ? 

Who shall now sing your crying elegies, 

And strike a sad soul into senseless pictures, Zj 

And make them mourn? who shall take up his lute, 

And touch it till he crown a silent sleep 

Upon my eyelids, making me dream, and cry, 

^' Oh, my dear, dear Philaster ! " 

P/ii. (aside). Oh, my heart ! 
Would he had broken thee, that made me know 
This lady was not loyal ! — Mistress, 
Forget the boy ; I'll-get thee a far better. 

Are, Oh, never, never such a boy again 
As my Bellario ! 90 

P/ii. 'Tis but your fond affection. 

Are. With thee, my boy, farewell for ever 
All secrecy in servants ! Farewell faith, 
And all desire to do well for itself ! 
Let all that shall succeed thee for thy wrongs 
Sell and betray chaste love ! 

P/ii. And all this passion for a boy? 

A?'e. He was your boy, and you put him to me, 
And the loss of such must have a mourning for. 

P/ii. Oh, thou forgetful woman ! 100 

Are. How, my lord?' 

F/ii. False Arethusa ! 
Hast thou a medicine to restore my wits. 
When I have lost 'em ? If not, leave to talk, 
And do thus. 

Are. Do what, sir? would you sleep? 

/%/. For ever, Arethusa. Oh, you gods. 
Give me a worthy patience ! Have I stood 



3i6 



PHILASTER. 



[act III. 



Naked, alone, the shock of many fortunes ? 

Have I seen mischiefs numberless and mighty no 

Grow like a sea upon me ? Have I taken 

Danger as stern as death into my bosom, 

And laughed upon it, made it but a mirth, 

And flung it by ? Do I live now like him. 

Under this tyrant King, that languishing 

Hears his sad bell and sees his mourners ? Do I 

Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length 

Under a woman's falsehood ? Oh, that boy, 

That cursed boy ! 

Are. Nay, then, I am betrayed : 120 

I feel the plot cast for my overthrow. 
Oh, I am wretched ! 

Phi. Now you may take that little right I have 
To this poor kingdom : give it to your joy ; 
For I have no joy in it. Some far place, 
Where never womankind durst set her foot 
For bursting with her poisons, must I seek, 
And live to curse you : 

There dig a cave, and preach to birds and beasts 
What woman is, and help to save them from you : 130 

How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts 
More hell than hell has ; how your tongues, like scorpions, 
Both heal and poison ; how your thoughts are woven 
With thousand changes in one subde web. 
And worn so by you ; how that foolish man, 
That reads the story of a woman's face 
And dies believing it, is lost for ever : 
How all the good you have is but a shadow, 
I' the morning with you, and at night behind you 
Past and forgotten ; how your vows are frosts, 140 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 317 

Fast for a night, and with the next sun gone ; 

How you are, being taken all together, 

A mere confusion, and so dead a chaos, 

That love cannot distinguish. These sad texts, 

Till my last hour, I am bound to utter of you. 

So, farewell all my woe, all my delight ! \_Exit. 

Are. Be merciful, ye gods, and strike me dead ! 
What way have I deserved this ? Make my breast 
Transparent as pure crystal, that the world, 
Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought 150 

My heart holds. Where shall a woman turn her eyes, 
To find out constancy ? 

E7iter Bellario. 

Save me, how black 
And guiltily, methinks, that boy looks now ! 
Oh, thou dissembler, that, before thou spak'st, 
Wert in thy cradle false, sent to make lies 
And betray innocents ! Thy lord and thou 
May glory in the ashes of a maid 
Fooled by her passion ; but the conquest is 
Nothing so great as wicked. Fly away ! 
Let my command force thee to that which shame 160 

Would do without it. If thou understood 'st 
The loathed office thou hast undergone. 
Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of hills, 
Lest men should dig and find thee. 

Bel. Oh, what god, 
Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease 
Into the noblest minds ! Madam, this grief 
You add unto me is no more than drops 
To seas, for which they are not seen to swell ; 



3i8 



PHILASTER. 



[act hi. 



My lord hath struck his anger through my heart, 170 

And let out all the hope of future joys. 
You need not bid me fly ; I came to part, 
To take my latest leave. Farewell for ever ! 
I durst not run away in honesty 
From such a lady, like a boy that stole 
Or made some grievous fault. The power of gods 
Assist you in your sufferings ! Hasty time 
Reveal the truth to your abused lord 

And mine, that he may know your worth ; whilst I 179 

Go seek out some forgotten place to die ! \^Exit Bellario. 
Are. Peace guide thee ! Thou hast overthrown me once ; 
Yet, if I had another Troy to lose. 
Thou, or another villain with thy looks. 
Might talk me out of it, and send me naked. 
My hair dishevelled, through the fiery streets. 

Enter a Lady. 

Lady. Madam, the King would hunt, and calls for you 
With earnestness. 

Are. I am in tune to hunt ! 
Diana, if thou canst rage with a maid 

As with a man,^ let me discover thee 190 

Bathing, and turn me to a fearful hind. 
That I may die pursued by cruel hounds. 
And have my story written in my wounds ! \^Exeunt? 



1 Actaeon, who, having caught sight of Diana bathing, was torn to pieces 
by his own dogs. 

2 The skill with which this third act is composed is excellent. What 
could be more natural than the art with which the King, the Princess, and 
Philaster are enmeshed in mutual misunderstandings, not a loophole for 
explanations visible ? 



SCENE I.] PHILASTER. 319 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Before the Palace. 

Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra, 
Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, and Attendants. 

King. What, are the hounds before and all the woodmen, 
Our horses ready and our bows bent? 

Dion. All, sir. 

King {to Pharamond). You are cloudy, sir: come, we 
have forgotten 
Your venial trespass ; let not that sit heavy 
Upon your spirit : here's none dare utter it. 

Dion. He looks dull as a dormouse. See how he sinks ! 

Thra. He needs no teaching, he strikes sure enough : his 
greatest fault is, he hunts too much in the purlieus ; would 
he would leave off poaching ! lo 

Dion. And for his horn, h'as left it at the lodge where he 
lay late. Oh, he's a precious Umehound ^ ! turn him loose 
upon the pursuit of a lady, and if he lose her, hang him up 
i' the slip. 

King. Is your boy turned away? 

Are. You did command, sir. 
And I obeyed you. 

Ki7ig. 'Tis well done. Hark ye further. 

\_They talk apart. 

1 Hunting-dog ; from the collar, and thong {learn, lyam, Ihne) used in 
leading him. 



320 PHILASTER. [ACT iv. 

Cle. Is't possible this fellow should repent? methinks, 
that were not noble in him ; and yet he looks like a mortified 
member, as if he had a sick man's salve ^ in's mouth. If 
a worse man had done this fault now, some physical justice 
or other would presently (without the help of an almanack) 
have opened the obstructions of his liver, and let him blood 
with a dogwhip. 25 

Dion. See, see how modestly yon lady looks, as if she 
came from churching with her neighbour ! Why, what a 
devil can a man see in her face but that she's honest ! 

Thi-a. Troth, no great matter to speak of; a foolish 
twinkling with the eye, that spoils her coat ; but he must be 
a cunning herald that finds it. 31 

Dion. See how they muster one another ! Oh, there's a 
rank regiment where the devil carries the colours and his 
dam drum-major ! now the world and the flesh come behind 
with the carriage.^ 

Cle. Sure this lady has a good turn done her against her 
will. Her face looks like a warrant, wilhng and command- 
ing all tongues, as they will answer it, to be tied up and 
bolted when this lady means to let herself loose. As I live, 
she has got her a goodly protection and a gracious : Oh, if 
they were to be got for money, what a great sum would 
come out of the city for these licenses ! 42 

King. To horse, to horse ! we lose the morning, gentle- 
men. \_Exeunf. 

1 A religious work, The Sick Man's Salve, was often ridiculed by the 
early dramatists. 
•2 



SCENE IL] PHILASTER. 321 

Scene II. — A Forest. 
Ente7' two Woodmen. 

1st Wood. What, have you lodged the deer? 

2d Wood. Yes, they are ready for the bow. 

1st Wood. Who shoots? 

2d Wood. The princess. 

1st Wood. No, she'll hunt. 

2d Wood. She'll take a stand, I say. 

1st Wood. Who else ? 

2d Wood. Why, the young stranger-prince. 

1st Wood. He shall shoot in a stone-bow^ for me. I 
never loved his beyond-sea-ship since he forsook the say,- 
for paying ten shillings. I think he should love venery ; he 
is an old Sir Tristrem,^ for if you be remembered, he forsook 
the stag once to strike a rascal miching ^ in a meadow, and 
her he killed in the eye. Who shoots else ? 14 

2d Wood. The Lady Galatea. 

1st Wood. She's liberal, and, by my bow, they say she's 
honest ; and whether that be a fault, I have nothing to do. 
There's all? 

2d Wood. No, one more ; Megra. 

1st Wood. That's a firker^ i 'faith, boy ! I have known her 
lose herself three times in one afternoon (if the woods have 
been answerable), and it has been work enough for one man 
to find her, and he has sweat for it. She rides well and she 
pays well. Hark ! let's go. \_Exeimt. 24 

1 Cross-bow for shooting stones. 

2 The assay, or slitting of the deer, in order to test the quality of his flesh, 
which involved a fee of ten shillings to the keeper. 

3 Sir Tristram, one of the knights of the Round Table. 

4 Lurking, skulking; cf. Hamlet, iii, 2, 146. 5 Slasher. 



22 2 PHILASTER. [act iv. 

Efiter Philaster. 

Phi. Oh, that I had been nourished in these woods 
With milk of goats and acorns, and not known 
The right of crowns nor the dissembhng trains 
Of women's looks ; but digged myself a cave. 
Where I, my fire, my cattle, and my bed, 
Might have been shut together in one shed ; 30 

And then had taken me some mountain-girl. 
Beaten with winds, chaste as the hardened rocks 
Whereon she dwells, that might have strewed my bed 
With leaves and reeds, and with the skins of beasts. 
Our neighbours, and have borne at her big breasts 
My large coarse issue ! ^ This had been a hfe 
Free from vexation. 

Enter Bellario. 

Bel. Oh, wicked men ! 
An innocent may walk safe among beasts ; 
Nothing assaults me here. {Aside) See, my grieved lord 
Sits as his soul were searching out a way 40 

To leave his body ! — Pardon me, that must 
Break thy last commandment ; for I must speak : 
You that are grieved can pity ; hear, my lord ! 

Fhi. Is there a creature yet so miserable. 
That I can pity ? 

Bel. Oh, my noble lord, 
View my strange fortune, and bestow on me, 
According to your bounty (if my service 
Can merit nothing), so much as may serve 
To keep that little piece I hold of hfe 5° 

1 Cf. Tennyson's Locksley Hall, 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 323 

From cold and hunger ! 

Phi. Is it thou ? begone ! 
Go, sell those misbeseeming clothes thou wear'st, 
And feed thyself with them. 

Bel. Alas, my lord, I can get nothing for them ! 
The silly country-people think 'tis treason 
To touch such gay things. 

Phi. Now, by my Hfe, this is 
Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight. 
Thou'rt fallen again to thy dissembling trade : 60 

How shouldst thou think to cozen me again ? 
Remains there yet a plague untried for me ? 
Even so thou wept'st, and looked'st, and spok'st when first 
I took thee up : 

Curse on the time ! If thy commanding tears 
Can work on any other, use thy art ; 
I'll not betray it. Which way wilt thou take? 
That I may shun thee, for thine eyes are poison 
To mine, and I am loath to grow in rage : 
This way, or that way? 70 

Bel. Any will serve ; but I will choose to have 
That path in chase that leads unto my grave. 

[^Exeunt severally. 

Enter on one side Dion, and on the other the two Woodmen. 

Dion. This is the strangest sudden chance ! You, wood- 
men ! 
1st Wood. My Lord Dion ? 

Dion. Saw you a lady come this way on a sable horse 
studded with stars of white ? 

2d Wood. Was she not young and tall ? 

Dion. Yes. Rode she to the wood or to the plain ? 



324 PHILASTER. [ACT IV. 

2d Wood. Faith my lord, we saw none. 

\_Exetmt Woodmen. 
Dion. Plague of your questions then ! 80 

Enter Cleremont. 

What, is she found ? 

Cle. Nor will be, I think. 

Dion. Let him seek his daughter himself. She cannot 
stray about a little, but the whole court must be in arms. 

Cle. There's already a thousand fatherless tales amongst 
us. Some say, her horse ran away with her ; some, a wolf 
pursued her; others, it was a plot to kill her, and that 
armed men were seen in the wood : but, questionless, she 
rode away willingly. 

Enter King, Thrasiline, and Attendants. 

King. Where is she? 90 

C/e. Sir, I cannot tell. 

King. How's that? 
Answer me so again ! 

Cle. Sir, shall I lie? 

King. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me that. 
I say again, where is she ? Mutter not ! — 
Sir, speak you ; where is she ? 

Dion. Sir, I do not know. 

King. Speak that again so boldly, and, by Heaven, 
It is thy last ! — You, fellows, answer me ; 100 

Where is she ? Mark me, all ; I am your King : 
I wish to see my daughter ; show her me ; 
I do command you all, as you are subjects, 
To show her me ! What ! am I not your King? 
If ay, then am I not to be obeyed ? 

Dion, Yes, if you command things possible and honest. 



SCENE II.] PHILASTER. 325 

King. Things possible and honest ! Hear me, thou, 
Thou traitor, that dar'st confine thy King to things 
Possible and honest ! show her me. 

Or, let me perish, if I cover not no 

All Sicily with blood ! 

Dion. Indeed I cannot, 
Unless you tell me where she is. 

King. You have betrayed me ; you have let me lose 
The jewel of my life. Go, bring her to me. 
And set her here before me : 'tis the King 
Will have it so ; whose breath can still the winds, 
Uncloud the sun, charm down the swelling sea. 
And stop the floods of heaven. Speak, can it not ? 

Dion. No. 120 

King. No ! cannot the breath of kings do this? 

Dion. No ; nor smell sweet itself, if once the lungs 
Be but corrupted. 

King. Is it so? Take heed ! 

Dion. Sir, take you heed how you dare the powers 
That must be just. 

King. Alas ! what are we kings ! 
Why do you, gods, place us above the rest. 
To be served, flattered, and adored, till we 
Believe we hold within our hands your thunder, 130 

And when we come to try the power we have. 
There's not a leaf shakes at our threatenings ? 
I have sinned, 'tis true, and here stand to be punished ; 
Yet would not thus be punished : let me choose 
My way, and lay it on ! 

Dion {aside). He articles with the gods. Would some- 
body would draw bonds for the performance of covenants 
betwixt them I 



326 PHILASTER. [ACT iv. 

Enter Pharamond, Galatea, and Megra. 

King. What, is she found? 

Pha. No ; we have ta'en her horse ; 140 

He galloped empty by. There is some treason. 
You, Galatea, rode with her into the wood ; 
Why left you her? 

Gal. She did command me. 

King. Command ! you should not. 

Gal. 'Twould ill become my fortunes and my birth 
To disobey the daughter of my King. 

King. You're all cunning to obey us for our hurt ; 
But I will have her. 

Pha. If I have her not, 150 

By this hand, there shall be no more Sicily. 

Dion {aside). What, will he carry it to Spain in's pocket? 

Pha. I will not leave one man alive, but the King, 
A cook, and a tailor. 

King {aside). I see 
The injuries I have done must be revenged. 

Dion. Sir, this is not the way to find her out. 

King. Run all, disperse yourselves. The man that finds 
her. 
Or (if she be killed), the traitor, I'll make him great. 

Dion {aside). I know some would give five thousand 
pounds to find her. 161 

Pha. Come, let us seek. 

King. Each man a several way ; 
Here I myself. 

Dion. Come, gentlemen, we here. 

Cle. Lady, you must go search too. 

Meg. I had rather be searched myself. \_Exeunt severally. 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER. 327 

Scene III. — Another Part of the Forest. 

Enter Arethusa. 

Are, Where am I now? Feet, find me out a way, 
Without the counsel of my troubled head : 
I'll follow you boldly about these woods, 
O'er mountains, through brambles, pits, and floods. 
Heaven, I hope, will ease me : I am sick. \Sits down. 

Enter Bellario. 

Bel. {aside). Yonder's my lady. Heaven knows I want 
Nothing, because I do not wish to live ; 
Yet I will try her charity. — Oh, hear, 
You that have plenty ! from that flowing store 
Drop some on dry ground. — See, the lively red 10 

Is gone to guard her heart ! I fear she faints. — 
Madam, look up ! — She breathes not. — Open once more 
Those rosy twins, and send unto my lord 
Your latest farewell ! — Oh, she stirs. — How is it, 
Madam? speak comfort. 

Are. 'Tis not gently done, 
To put me in a miserable life, 
And hold me there : I prithee, let me go ; 
I shall do best without thee ; I am well. 

Enter Philaster. 

Phi. I am to blame to be so much in rage : 2c 

I'll tell her cooUy when and where I heard 
This killing truth. I will be temperate 

In speaking, and as just in hearing. 

Oh, monstrous ! Tempt me not, ye gods ! good gods. 



328 PHILASTER. [act iv. 

Tempt not a frail man ! What's he, that has a heart, 
But he must ease it here ! 

Bel. My lord, help, help ! 
The princess ! 

Are. I am well : forbear. 

Phi. {aside). Let me love lightning, let me be embraced 
And kissed by scorpions, or adore the eyes 31 

Of basilisks, rather than trust the tongues 
Of hell-bred women ! Some good god look down, 
And shrink these veins up ; stick me here a stone, 
Lasting to ages in the memory 
Of this damned act ! — Hear me, you wicked ones ! 
You have put hills of fire into this breast, 
Not to be quenched with tears ; for which may guilt 
Sit on your bosoms ! at your meals and beds 
Despair await you ! What, before my face ? 40 

Poison of asps between your Hps ! diseases 
Be your best issues ! Nature make a curse, 
And throw it on you ! 

Are. Dear Philaster, leave 
To be enraged, and hear me. 

Phi. I have done ; 
Forgive my passion. Not the calmed sea. 
When ^olus locks up his windy brood. 
Is less disturbed than I : I'll make you know it. 
Dear Arethusa, do but take this sword, 50 

[ Offers his drawn sword. 
And search how temperate a heart I have ; 
Then you and this your boy may live and reign 
In lust without control. Wilt thou, Bellario? 
I prithee kill me ; thou art poor, and may'st 
Nourish ambitious thoughts : when I am dead, 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER. 329 

Thy way were freer. Am I raging now ? 
If I were mad, I should desire to Hve. 
Sirs/ feel my pulse, whether you have known 
A man in a more equal tune to die. 

Bel. Alas, my lord, your pulse keeps madman's time ! 
Sj does your tongue. 61 

Phi. You will not kill me, then ? 

Are. Kill you ! 

Bel. Not for a world. 

Phi. I blame not thee, 
Bellario : thou hast done but that which gods 
Would have transformed themselves to do. Be gone, 
Leave me without reply ; this is the last 
Of all our meetings — (^5":^:// Bellario.) Kill me with this 

sword ; 
Be wise, or worse will follow : we are two 70 

Earth cannot bear at once. Resolve to do, 
Or suffer. 

Are. If my fortune be so good to let me fall 
Upon thy hand, I shall have peace in death. 
Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders, 
No jealousies in the other world ; no ill there? 

Phi. No. 

Are. Show me, then, the way. 

Phi. Then guide my feeble hand. 
You that have power to do it, for I must 80 

Perform a piece of justice ! — If your youth 
Have any way offended Heaven, let prayers 
Short and effectual reconcile you to it. 

Are. I am prepared. 

1 Women, as well as men, were formerly addressed as sirs. 



330 PHILASTER. [ACT iv. 

Enter a Country Fellow. 

C. Fell, {aside) . I'll see the King, if he be in the forest ; I 
have hunted him these two hours ; if I should come home 
and not see him, my sisters would laugh at me. I can see 
nothing but people better horsed than myself, that outride 
me ; I can hear nothing but shouting. These kings had need 
of good brains ; this whooping is able to put a mean man 
out of his wits. There's a courtier with his sword drawn ; 
by this hand, upon a woman, I think ! 92 

Phi. Are you at peace ? 

Are. With heaven and earth. 

Phi. May they divide thy soul and body ! [ Wounds her. 

C. Fell. Hold, dastard ! strike a woman ! Thou'rt a 
craven, I warrant thee : thou wouldst be loath to play half a 
dozen venies ^ at wasters - with a good fellow for a broken 
head. 

Phi. Leave us, good friend. 100 

Are. What ill-bred man art thou, to intrude thyself 
Upon our private sports, our recreations ? 

C. Fell. God 'uds me/ I understand you not ; but 
I know the rogue has hurt you. 

Phi. Pursue thy own affairs : it will be ill 
To multiply blood upon my head ; which thou 
Wilt force me to. 

C. Fell. I know not your rhetoric ; but I can lay it on, if 
you touch the woman. 

Phi. Slave, take what thou deservest ! {They fight, no 

Are. Heavens guard my lord ! 

C. Fell. Oh, do you breathe ? 

Phi. {aside) . I hear the tread of people. I am hurt : 

1 A turn or bout, at fencing ; French venue. 

2 Singlestick, or cudgels. 3 God judge me. 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER. 331 

The gods take part against me : could this boor 

Have held me thus else ? I must shift for life, 

Though I do loathe it. I would find a course 

To lose it rather by my will than force. [Exit. 

C. Fell. I cannot follow the rogue. I pray thee, wench, 
come and kiss me now. 

Enter Pharamond, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, and 
Woodmen. 

/%^;. What art thou? 120 

C. Fell. Almost killed I am for a foolish woman ; a knave 
has hurt her. 

Fha. The princess, gentlemen! — Where's the wound, 
madam ! 
Is it dangerous? 

Are. He has not hurt me. 

C. Fell. V faith, she lies ; h'as hurt her in the breast ; 
look else. 

Fha. O, sacred spring of innocent blood ! 

Diofi. 'Tis above wonder ! who should dare this ? 

Aj-e. I felt it not. 130 

Fha. Speak, villain, who has hurt the princess ? 

C. Fell. Is it the princess? 

Dion. Ay. 

C. Fell. Then I have seen something yet. 

Fha. But who has hurt her? 

C. Fell. I told you, a rogue j I ne'er saw him before, I. 

Fha. Madam, who did it? 

Are. Some dishonest wretch ; 
Alas, I know him not, and do forgive him ! 

C. Fell. He's hurt too ; he cannot go far ; I made my 
father's old fox ^ fly about his ears. 141 

1 Sword. 



332 PHILASTER. [ACT iv. 

Pha. How will you have me kill him? 

Are. Not at all ; 
'Tis some distracted fellow. 

Pha. By this hand, 
I'll leave ne'er a piece of him bigger than a nut, 
And bring him all to you in my hat. 

Are. Nay, good sir, 
If you do take him, bring him quick ^ to me, 
And I will study for a punishment 150 

Great as his fault. 

Pha. I will. 

Are. But swear. 

Pha. By all my love, I will. — ^ 

Woodmen, conduct the princess to the King, 
And bear that wounded fellow to dressing. — 
Come, gentlemen, we'll follow the chase close. 

\_Exeiint on one side Phar.a.]viond, Dion, Cleremont, 
and Thrasiline ; on the other Arethusa at- 
tended by the First Woodman. 

C. Fell. I pray you, friend, let me see the King. 

2d Wood. That you shall, and receive thanks. 

C. Fell. If I get clear with this, I'll go see no more gay 
sights. [^Exeunt. 160 

Scene IV.^ — Another Part of the Fo7'est. 

Enter Bellario. 

Bel. A heaviness near death sits on my brow, 
And I must sleep. Bear me, thou gentle bank. 
For ever, if thou wilt. You sweet ones all, \^Lies down. 

Let me unworthy press you : I could wish 

1 Alive. 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. ;^^- 

I rather were a corse strewed o'er with you 

Than quick above you. Dulness shuts mine eyes, 

And I am giddy : oh, that I could take 

So sound a sleep that I might never wake ! [_S/eeJ>s. 

Enter Philaster. 

Phi. I have done ill ; my conscience calls me false, 
To strike at her that would not strike at me. lo 

When I did fight, methought I heard her pray 
The gods to guard me. She may be abused. 
And I a loathed villain : if she be. 
She will conceal who hurt her. He has wounds 
And cannot follow ; neither knows he me. 
Who's this? Bellario sleeping ! If thou be'st 
Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep 
Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast wronged, 

[ Cry within. 
So broken. Hark ! I am pursued. Ye gods, 
I'll take this offered means of my escape : 20 

They have no mark to know me but my blood. 
If she be true ; if false, let mischief light 
On all the world at once ! Sword, print my wounds 
Upon this sleeping boy ! I have none, I think. 
Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee. 

[ Wounds Bellario.^ 

Bel, Oh, death, I hope, is come ! Blest be that hand ! 
It meant me well. Again, for pity's sake ! 

Phi. I have caught myself; \_FalIs. 

The loss of blood hath stayed my flight. Here, here, 

1 Dryden justly condemns these pinkings of Arethusa and Bellario by 
Philaster. " It is as if the jealous but naturally gentle lover wished to do a 
little bit of murder without actually committing it," says Leigh Hunt. 



334 PHILASTER. [ACT IV. 

Is he that struck thee : take thy full revenge ; 30 

Use me, as I did mean thee, worse than death ; 

I'll teach thee to revenge. This luckless hand 

Wounded the princess ; tell my followers ^ 

Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me, 

And I will second thee ; get a reward. 

Bel. Fly, fly, my lord, and save yourself ! 

Phi. How's this ? 
Wouldst thou I should be safe? 

Bel. Else were it vain 
For me to live. These little wounds I have 40 

Have not bled much : reach me that noble hand ; 
I'll help to cover you. 

Phi. Art thou then true to me ? 

Bel. Or let me perish loathed ! Come, my good lord, 
Creep in amongst those bushes : who does know 
But that the gods may save your much-loved breath ? 

Phi. Then I shall die for grief, if not for this, 
That I have wounded thee. What wilt thou do? 

Bel. Shift for myself well. Peace ! I hear 'em come. 

[Philaster creeps into a bush. 

( Voices within.^ Follow, follow, follow ! that way they 
went. 50 

Bel. With my own wounds I'll bloody my own sword. 
I need not counterfeit to fall ; Heaven knows 
That I can stand no longer. \_Falls. 

Enter Phara^niond, Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. 

Pha. To this place we have tracked him by his blood. 
Cle. Yonder, my lord, creeps one away. 
Dion. Stay, sir ! what are you ? 

1 Pursuers. 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 335 

Bel. A wretched creature, wounded in these woods 
By beasts : reheve me, if your names be men, 
Or I shall perish. 

Dion. This is he, my lord, 60 

Upon my soul, that hurt her : 'tis the boy. 
That wicked boy, that served her. 

Pha. Oh, thou damned 
In thy creation ! what cause couldst thou shape 
To hurt the princess? 

Bel. Then I am betrayed. 

Dion. Betrayed ! no, apprehended. 

Bel. I confess, 
(Urge it no more) that big with evil thoughts, 
I set upon her, and did take my aim, 70 

Her death. For charity let fall at once 
The punishment you mean, and do not load 
This weary flesh with tortures. 

Pha. I will know 
Who hired thee to this deed. 

Bel. Mine own revenge. 

Pha. Revenge ! for what? 

Bel. It pleased her to receive 
Me as her page, and, when ray fortunes ebbed, 
That men strid o'er them careless, she did shower So 

Her welcome graces on me, and did swell 
My fortunes till they overflowed their banks, 
Threatening the men that crossed 'em ; when, as swift 
As storms arise at sea, she turned her eyes 
To burning suns upon me, and did dry 
The streams she had bestowed, leaving me worse 
And more contemned than other little brooks, 
Because I had been great. In short, I knew 



336 PHILASTER. [ACT IV. 

I could not live, and therefore did desire 

To die revenged. 90 

Pha. If tortures can be found 
Long as thy natural life, resolve to feel 
The utmost rigour. 

Cle. Help to lead him hence. 

[Philaster creeps out of the bush. 

Phi. Turn back, you ravishers of innocence ! 
Know ye the price of that you bear away 
So rudely? 

Pha. Who's that? 

Dion. 'Tis the Lord Philaster. 

Phi. 'Tis not the treasure of all kings in one, 100 

The wealth of Tagus, nor the rocks of pearl 
That pave the court of Neptune, can weigh down 
That virtue. It was I that hurt the princess. 
Place me, some god, upon a pyramis ^ 
Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice 
Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence 
I may discourse to all the under-world 
The worth that dwells in him ! 

Pha. How's this ? 

Bel. My lord, some man no 

Weary of life, that would be glad to die. 

Phi. Leave these untimely courtesies, Bellario. 

Bel. Alas, he's mad ! Come, will you lead me on? 

Phi. By all the oaths that men ought most to keep, 
And gods do punish most when men do break, 
He touched her not. — Take heed, Bellario, 
How thou dost drown the virtues thou hast shown 
With perjury. — By all that's good, 'twas I ! 

1 Pyramid. 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 337 

You know she stood betwixt me and my right. 

Pha. Thy own tongue be thy judge ! 120 

Cle. It was Philaster. 

Dion. Is't not a brave boy? 
Well, sirs, I fear me we were all deceived. 

Phi. Have I no friend here ? 

Dion. Yes. 

Phi. Then show it : some 
Good body lend a hand to draw us nearer. 
Would you have tears shed for you when you die ? 
Then lay me gently on his neck, that there 
I may weep floods and breathe forth my spirit. 130 

'Tis not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold \_Emdraces Bel. 
Locked in the heart of earth, can buy away 
This arm-full from me : this had been a ransom 
To have redeemed the great Augustus Cassar, 
Had he been taken. You hard-hearted men, 
More stony than these mountains, can you see 
Such clear pure blood drop, and not cut your flesh 
To stop his life ? to bind whose bitter wounds, 
Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their tears 
Bathe 'em. — Forgive me, thou that art the wealth 140 

Of poor Philaster ! 

Enter King, Arethusa, and Guard. 

King. Is the villain ta'en? 

Pha. Sir, here be two confess the deed ; but sure 
It was Philaster. 

Phi. Question it no more ; 
It was. 

King. The fellow that did fight with him, 
Will tell us that. 



33^ PHILASTER. [ACT IV. 

A7'e. Aye me ! I know he will. 

Xwg. Did not you know him ? 130 

Are. Sir, if it was he, 
He was disguised. 

P/ii. (aside). I was so. Oh, my stars. 
That I should live still. 

Jiing. Thou ambitious fool, 
Thou that hast laid a train for thy own life ! — 
Now I do mean to do, I'll leave to talk. 
Bear them to prison. 

Are. Sir, they did plot together to take hence 
This harmless hfe ; should it pass unrevenged, 160 

1 should to earth go weeping : grant me, then. 
By all the love a father bears his child. 
Their custodies, and that I may appoint 
Their tortures and their death. 

Dion. Death ! Soft ; our law will not reach that for this 
fault. 

King. 'Tis granted ; take 'em to you with a guard. — 
Come, princely Pharamondj this business past. 
We may with more security go on 
To your intended match. 

\^Exeiint all except V)\OYi, Cleremont, ^;/<^ Thr.4Siline. 

Cle. I pray that this action lose not Philaster the hearts of 
the people. 171 

Dion. Fear it not ; their over-wise heads will think it but 
a trick. \_Exeunt. 



SCENE 1.] PHILASTER 339 

ACT V. 

Scene I. — Before the Palace. 
Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. 

Thra. Has the King sent for him to death? 

Dion. Yes ; but the King must know 'tis not in his power 
to war with Heaven. 

Cle. We Hnger time ; the King sent for Philaster and the 
headsman an hour ago. 

Thra. Are all his wounds well? 

Dion. All ; they were but scratches ; but the loss of blood 
made him faint. 

Cle. We dally, gentlemen. 

Thra. Away ! 10 

Dion. We'll scuffle hard before he perish. \_Exeunt. 

Scene 11. — A Prison. 
Enter Philaster, Arethusa, and Bellario. 

A7'e. Nay, dear Philaster, grieve not ; we are well. 

Bel. Nay, good my lord, forbear ; we are wondrous well. 

Phi. Oh, Arethusa, oh, Bellario, 
Leave to be kind ! 

I shall be shut from Heaven, as now from earth, 
If you continue so. I am a man 
False to a pair of the most trusty ones 
That ever earth bore : can it bear us all? 
Forgive and leave me. But the King hath sent 



340 PHILASTER. [act v. 

To call me to my death : oh, show it me, lo 

And then forget me ! and for thee, my boy, 

I shall deliver words will mollify 

The hearts of beasts to spare thy innocence. 

Bel. Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing 
Worthy your noble thoughts ! 'tis not a life, 
'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.^ 
Should I outlive you, I should then outlive 
Virtue and honour ; and when that day comes, 
If ever I shall close these eyes but once, 
May I live spotted for my perjury, 20 

And waste my limbs to nothing ! 

Are. And I (the woful'st maid that ever was. 
Forced with my hands to bring my lord to death) 
Do by the honour of a virgin swear 
To tell no hours beyond it ! 

Phi. Make me not hated so. 

Are. Come from this prison all joyful to our deaths ! 

Phi. People will tear me, when they find you true 
To such a wretch as I ; I shall die loathed. 
Enjoy your kingdoms peaceably, whilst I 30 

For ever sleep forgotten with my faults : 
Every just servant, every maid in love. 
Will have a piece of me, if you be true. 

Are. My dear lord, say not so. 

Bel. A piece of you ! 
He was not born of woman that can cut 
It and look on. 

Phi. Take me in tears betwixt you, for my heart 
Will break with shame and sorrow. 

Are. Why, 'tis well. 40 

1 One of the loveliest touches in the play. 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER, 341 

Bel. Lament no more. 

Phi. Why, what would you have done 
If you had wronged me basely, and had found 
Your life no price compared to mine ? for love, sirs, 
Deal with me truly. 

Bel. 'Twas mistaken, sir. 

Phi, Why, if it were ? 

Bel. Then, sir, we would have asked 
You pardon. 

Phi. And have hope to enjoy it? 50 

A7-e. Enjoy it ! ay. 

Phi. Would you indeed ? be plain. 

Bel. We would, my lord. 

Phi. Forgive me, then. 

Are. So, so. 

Bel. 'Tis as it should be now. 

Phi. Lead to my death. \_Exeiint. 

Scene IIL — A State-room in the Palace. 
Enter King, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, and Attendants. 

King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince? 

Cle. So please you, sir, he's gone to see the city 
And the new platform, with some gentlemen 
Attending on him. 

King. Is the princess ready 
To bring her prisoner out ? 

Thra. She waits your grace. 

King. Tell her we stay. [^Exit Thrasiline. 

Dion. King, you may be deceived yet : 
The head you aim at cost more setting on 10 

Than to be lost so lightly. — {Aside) If it must off; 



342 PHILASTER. [act V. 

Like a wild overflow, that swoops before him 

A golden stack, and with it shakes down bridges. 

Cracks the strong hearts of pines, whose cable-roots 

Held out a thousand storms, a thousand thunders. 

And, so made mightier, takes whole villages 

Upon his back, and in that heat of pride 

Charges strong towns, towers, castles, palaces. 

And lays them desolate ; so shall thy head. 

Thy noble head, bury the lives of thousands, 20 

That must bleed with thee like a sacrifice. 

In thy red ruins. 

Enter Arethusa, Philaster, Bellario in a robe attd gar- 
land, ^;2^.Thrasiline. 

King. How now ? what masque is this ? 

Bel. Right royal sir, I should 
Sing you an epithalamium of these lovers, 
But having lost my best airs with my fortunes. 
And wanting a celestial harp to strike 
This blessed union on, thus in glad story 
I give you all. These two fair cedar-branches 
The noblest of the mountain where they grew, 30 

Straightest and tallest, under whose still shades 
The worthier beasts have made their lairs, and slept 
Free from the fervour of the Sirian star 
And the fell thunder- stroke, free from the clouds. 
When they were big with humour, and delivered, 
In thousand spouts their issues to the earth ; 
Oh, there was none but silent quiet there ! 
Till never-pleased Fortune shot up shrubs, 
Base under- brambles, to divorce these branches; 
And for a while they did so, and did reign 40 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER. 343 

Over the mountain, and choke ^ up his beauty 

With brakes, rude thorns and thistles, till the sun 

Scorched them even to the roots and dried them there : 

And now a gentle gale hath blown again, 

That made these branches meet and twine together, 

Never to be divided. The god that sings 

His holy numbers over marriage- beds 

Hath knit their noble hearts ; and here they stand 

Your children, mighty King : and I have done. 

King. How, how? 50 

Are. Sir, if you love it in plain truth, 
(For now there is no masquing in't,) this gentleman, 
The prisoner that you gave me, is become 
My keeper, and through all the bitter throes 
Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him, 
Thus nobly hath he struggled, and at length 
Arrived here my dear husband. 

King. Your dear husband ! — 
Call in the Captain of the Citadel. — 

There you shall keep your wedding. I'll provide 60 

A masque shall make your Hymen ^ turn his saffron 
Into a sullen coat, and sing sad requiems 
To your departing souls ; 

Blood shall put out your torches ; and, instead 
Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks. 
An axe shall hang like a prodigious meteor. 
Ready to crop your loves' sweets. Hear, ye gods ! 
From this time do I shake all title off 
Of father to this woman, this base woman ; 
And what there is of vengeance in a lion 70 

1 Another reading is cloak. 

2 In old masques and pageants, Hymen was clothed in saffron. 



344 



PHILASTER. 



[act v. 



Chafed ^ among dogs or robbed of his dear young, 
The same, enforced more terrible, more mighty, 
Expect from me ! 

Ai'e. Sir, by that Uttle life I have left to swear by, 
There's nothing that can stir me from myself. 
What I have done, I have done without repentance ; 
For death can be no bugbear unto me, 
So long as Pharamond is not my headsman. 

Dion (aside). Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy 
maid, 
Whene'er thou diest ! For this time I'll excuse thee, 80 

Or be thy prologue. 

Phi. Sir, let me speak next ; 
And let my dying words be better with you 
Than my dull living actions. If you aim 
At the dear life of this sweet innocent. 
You are a tyrant and a savage monster, 
That feeds upon the blood you gave a life to ; 
Your memory shall be as foul behind you. 
As you are, living ; all your better deeds 
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble ; ^ 90 

No chronicle shall speak you, though your own, 
But for the shame of men. No monument, 
Though high and big as PeHon, shall be able 
To cover this base murder : make it rich 
With brass, with purest gold and shining jasper, 
Like the Pyramides ; lay on epitaphs 
Such as make great men gods ; my little marble 

1 Variation, cast. 

2 Cf. Henry VIII, iv, 2, — a play in which Fletcher collaborated with 
Shakespeare : — 

" Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues 
We write in water." 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER. 34^ 

That only clothes my ashes, not my faults, 

Shall far outshine it. And for after-issues, 

Think not so madly of the heavenly wisdoms, loo 

That they will give you more for your mad rage 

To cut off, unless it be some snake, or something 

Like yourself, that in his birth shall strangle you. 

Remember my father, King ! there was a fault. 

But I forgive it : let that sin persuade you 

To love this lady ; if you have a soul, 

Think, save her, and be saved. For myself, 

I have so long expected this glad hour, 

So languished under you, and daily withered, 

That, Heaven knows, it is a joy to die ; no 

I find a recreation in't. 

Enter a Gentleman. 

Gent. Where is the King? 

King. Here. 

Gent. Get you to your strength. 
And rescue the Prince Pharamond from danger ; 
He's taken prisoner by the citizens. 
Fearing ^ the Lord Philaster. 

Dion {aside) . Oh, brave followers ! 
Mutiny, my fine dear countrymen, mutiny ! 
Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your weapons 120 

In honor of your mistresses ! 

Ente7' a Second Gentleman. 

2d Gent. Arm, arm, arm, arm ! 

King. A thousand devils take 'em ! 

Dion {aside) . A thousand blessings on 'em ! 

1 Fearing for. 



346 PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

2d Getit. Arm, O King ! The city is in mutiny, 
Led by an old grey ruffian, who comes on 
In rescue of the Lord Philaster. 

King. Away to the citadel ! I'll see them safe. 
And then cope with these burghers. Let the guard 
And all the gentlemen give strong attendance. 130 

\_Exeunt all except Dion, ClereiMONt, and Thrasiline. 

Cle. The city up ! this was above our wishes. 

Dion. Ay, and the marriage too. By my life. 
This noble lady has deceived us all. 
A plague upon myself, a thousand plagues, 
For having such unworthy thoughts of her dear honour ! 
Oh, I could beat myself ! or do you beat me, 
And I'll beat you ; for we had all one thought. 

Cle. No, no, 'twill but lose time. 

Dion. You say true. Are your swords sharp ? — Well, my 
dear countrymen What-ye-lacks/ if you continue, and fall not 
back upon the first broken shin, I'll have you chronicled and 
chronicled, and cut and chronicled, and sung in all-to-be- 
praised sonnets, and bawled in new brave ballads, that all 
tongues shall troul ^ you in sceciila sceculorum, my kind can- 
carriers. 145 

Thra. What if a toy^ take 'em i' the heels now, and they 
run all away, and cry, " the devil take the hindmost "? 

Dion. Then the same devil take the foremost too, and 
souse him for his breakfast ! If they all prove cowards, my 
curses fly amongst them, and be speeding ! May they have 
murrains rain to keep the gentlemen at home unbound in 
easy frieze ! may the moths branch^ their velvets, and their 

1 Shop-keepers used to stand before their doors and cry, " What-d'ye- 
lack ? " to the passers-by. 

2 Troll, sing a catch. 3 Freak. ^ Eat off the nap. 



SCENE III.] PHILASTER. 34 y 

silks only to be worn before sore eyes ! may their false lights 
undo 'em, and discover presses, holes, stains, and oldness in 
their stuffs, and make them shop-rid ! may they live mewed 
up with necks of beef and. turnips ! may they have many 
children, and none like the father ! may they know no lan- 
guage but that gibberish they prattle to their parcels, unless 
it be the goatish ^ Latin they write in their bonds — and may 
they write that false, and lose their debts ! , 160 

Re-enter King. 

King. Now the vengeance of all the gods confound them ! 
How they swarm together ! what a hum they raise ! — 
Devils choke your wild throats ! If a man had need to use 
their valours, he must pay a brokage ^ for it, and then bring 
'em on, and they will fight like sheep. 'Tis Philaster, none 
but Philaster, must allay this heat : they will not hear me 
speak, but fling dirt at me and call me tyrant. Oh, run, 
dear friend, and bring the Lord Philaster ! speak him fair ; 
call him prince ; do him all the courtesy you can ; commend 
me to him. Oh, my wits, my wits ! \_Exit Cleremont. 170 

Dion {aside) . Oh, my brave countrymen ! as I live, I will 
not buy a pin out of your walls for this ; nay, you shall cozen 
me, and Lll thank you, and send you brawn and bacon, and 
soil you every long vacation a brace of foremen,^ that at 
Michaelmas shall come up fat and kicking. 

King. What they will do with this poor prince, the gods 
know, and I fear. 

Dion. Why, sir, they'll flay him, and make church-buck- 

1 Barbarous ; another reading is Gothic. 

2 A commission allowed to the middleman in a commercial transaction. 

3 Fatten a brace of geese; cf. " soiled horse," in King Lear, iv, 6, 124. 
Better spelt soul, from the Old French saoler, Mod. French souler. 



348 PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

ets of s skin, to quench rebellion ; then clap a rivet in's 
sconce, and hang him up for a sign. i8o 

Enter Philaster and Cleremont. 

King. Oh, worthy sir, forgive me ! do not make 
Your miseries and my faults meet together. 
To bring a greater danger. Be yourself. 
Still sound amongst diseases. I have wronged you ; 
And though I find it last, and beaten to it, 
Let first your goodness know it. Calm the people. 
And be what you were born to : take your love. 
And with her my repentance, all my wishes 
And all my prayers. By the gods, my heart speaks this ; 
And if the least fall from me not performed, 190 

May I be struck with thunder ! 

Phi. Mighty sir, 
I will not do your greatness so much wrong, 
As not to make your word truth. Free the princess 
x\nd the poor boy, and let me stand the shock 
Of this mad sea-breach, which I'll either turn, 
Or perish with it. 

King. Let your own word free them. 

Phi. Then thus I take my leave, kissing your hand, 
And hanging on your royal word. Be kingly, 200 

And be not moved, sir : I shall bring you peace 
Or never bring myself back. 

King. All the gods go with thee. \_Exeunt. 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 349 



Scene IV. — A Sti-eet. 

Enter an old Captain and Citizens with Pharamond 
prisonej'. 

Cap. Come, my brave myrmidons, let us fall on ! 

Let your caps swarm, my boys, and your nimble tongues 

Forget your mother gibberish of " what do you lack," 

And set your mouths ope, children, till your palates 

Fall frighted half a fathom past the cure 

Of bay-salt and gross pepper, and then cry 

*' Philaster, brave Philaster ! " Let Philaster 

Be deeper in request, my ding-a-dings. 

My pairs of dear indentures, kings of clubs,^ 

Than your cold water-camlets, or your paintings 10 

Spitted with copper. Let not your hasty silks, 

Or your branched cloth of bodkin, or your tissues, 

Dearly beloved of spiced cake and custard. 

Your Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns, tie your affections 

In darkness to your shops. No, dainty duckers " 

Up with your three-piled spirits, your wrought valours ^ ; 

And let your uncut cholers make the King feel 

The measure of your mightiness. Philaster ! 

Cry, my rose-nobles,'* cry ! 

All. Philaster ! Philaster ! 20 

Cap. How do you like this, my lord-prince ? 

These are mad boys, I tell you ; these are things 

1 London shop-keepers and their apprentices commonly used clubs as 
weapons, 

2 Cringers. 3 piay on the word velotirs, velvet. 
4 Another pun ; rose-nobles were gold coins stamped with a rose, and 

worth sixteen shillings. 



350 PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

That will not strike their top-sails to a foist/ 
And let a man of war, an argosy, 
Hull and cry cockles.-' 

Pha. Why, you rude slave, do you know what you do? 

Cap. My pretty prince of puppets, we do know ; 
And give your greatness warning that you talk 
No more such bug's-words,^ or that soldered crown 
Shall be scratched with a musket.'^ 30 

— Let him loose, my spirits : 

Make us a round ring with your bills,^ my Hectors, 
And let us see what this trim man dares do. 
Now, sir, have at you ! here I lie ; 

And with this swashing blow (do you see, sweet prince ?) 
I could hock ^ your grace, and hang you up cross-legged. 
Like a hare at a poulter's, and do this with this wiper. 

Pha. You will not see me murdered, wicked villains? 

1st Cit. Yes, indeed, will we, sir ; we have not seen one 
For a great while. 40 

Cap. He would have weapons, would he ? 
Give him a broadside, my brave boys, with your pikes ; 
Branch "' me his skin in flowers like a satin, 
And between every flower a mortal cut. — 
Your royalty shall ravel ! — Jag him, gentlemen ; 
I'll have him cut to the kell,^ then down the seams. 
O for a whip to make him galloon-laces ! 
I'll have a coach-whip. 

Pha. Oh, spare me, gentlemen ! 

Cap. Hold, hold ; 50 

1 A small craft ; Italian fusta. 2 Crow over them. 

3 Bombastic. 4 a small hawk. ^ Battle-axes, halberds. 

6 Ham-string. '' See note, p. 346. 

8 The omentum, or adipose membrane attached to the stomach. 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 35 1 

The man begins to fear and know himself; 

He shall for this time only be seeled up/ 

With a feather through his nose, that he may only 

See heaven, and think whither he is going. Nay, 

Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will proclaim you : 

You would be king ! 

Thou tender heir apparent to a church-ale,^ 

Thou slight prince of single sarcenet. 

Thou royal ring-tail,^ fit to fly at nothing 

But poor men's poultry, and have every boy 60 

Beat thee from that too with his bread and butter ! 

Pha. Gods keep me from these hell-hounds ! 

1st Cit. I'll have a leg, that's certain. 

2d Cit. I'll have an arm. 

3d Cit. I'll have his nose, and at mine own charge build 
A college and clap it upon the gate.^ 

4th Cit. Good captain, let . me have his liver to feed 
ferrets. 

Cap. Who will have parcels else ? speak. 

Pha. Good gods, consider me ! I shall be tortured. 

1st Cit. Captain, I'll give you the trimming of your two- 
hand sword, 70 
And let me have his skin to make false scabbards. 

2d Cit. He had no horns, sir, had he ? 

Cap. No, sir, he's a pollard : 
What wouldst thou do with horns? 

2d Cit. Oh, if he had had, 
I would have made rare hafts and whistles of 'em ; 

1 To close the eyelids, as of a hawk, by passing a fine thread through 
them. 

2 Festival at the dedication of a church. 3 Female of the hen harrier. 
4 Allusion to Brazen Nose College, Oxford. 



352 PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

But his shin-bones, if they be sound, shall serve me. 
Enter Philaster. 

All. Long live Philaster, the brave Prince Philaster ! 

Phi. I thank you, gentlemen. But why are these 
Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your hands So 

Uncivil trades ? 

Cap. My royal Rosicleer,^ 
We are thy myrmidons, thy guard, thy roarers ^ ; 
And when thy noble body is in durance, 
Thus do we clap our musty murrions ^ on, 
And trace the streets in terror. Is it peace. 
Thou Mars of men ? is the King sociable, 
And bids thee live ? art thou above thy foemen. 
And free as Phoebus ? speak. If not, this stand 
Of royal blood shall be a- broach, a-tilt, 90 

And run even to the lees of honour. 

Phi. Hold, and be satisfied : I am myself 
Free as my thoughts are : by the gods, I am ! 

Cap. Art thou the dainty darling of the King? 
Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules? 
Do the lords bow, and the regarded scarlets 
Kiss their gummed golls, * and cry " We are your ser- 
vants " ? 
Is the court navigable, and the presence stuck 
With flags of friendship? If not, we are thy castle, 
And this man sleeps. 100 

Phi. I am what I desire to be, your friend ; 
I am what I was born to be, your prince. 

1 A character in The Mirror of Knighthood. 

2 Cant name for street lufifians. 

3 Morions, steel caps. ^ Hands rubbed with gum or perfume. - 



SCENE IV.] PHILASTER. 353 

Pha. Sir, there is some humanity in you ; 
You have a noble soul : forget my name, 
And know my misery : set me safe aboard 
From these wild cannibals, and, as I live, 
I'll quit this land for ever. There is nothing, — 
Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sickness 
Of all sorts, of all dangers, and all together. 
The worst company of the worst men, madness, age, no 

To be as many creatures as a woman. 
And do as all they do, nay, to despair, — 
But I would rather make it a v^q\n nature. 
And live with all those, than endure one hour 
Amongst these wild dogs. 

Phi. I do pity you. — Friends, discharge your fears ; 
Deliver me the prince : Fll warrant you 
I shall be old enough to find my safety. 

3d Cit. Good sir, take heed he does not hurt you ; 
He is a fierce man, I can tell you, sir. 120 

Cap. Prince, by your leave, I'll have a surcingle, 
And mail ^ you like a hawk. 

Phi. Away, away, there is no danger in him : 
Alas, he had rather sleep to shake his fit off ! 
Look you, friends, how gently he leads ! Upon my word. 
He's tame enough, he needs no further watching. 
Good my friends, go to your houses. 
And by me have your pardons and my love ; 
And know there shall be nothing in my power 
You may deserve, but you shall have your wishes : 130 

To give you more thanks, were to flatter you. 
Continue still your love ; and, for an earnest. 
Drink this. \_Gives money. 

1 To tie up a falcon's pinions. 



354 PHILASTER. [act v. 

All. Long mayst thou live, brave prince, brave prince, 
brave prince ! \_Exeimt Phil, ajid Phar. 

Cap. Go thy ways, thou art the king of courtesy ! 
Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come, 
And every man trace to his house again. 
And hang his pewter up ; then to the tavern. 
And bring your wives in muffs. We will have music ; 
And the red grape shall make us dance and rise, boys. 140 

\_Exeunt.^ 

Scene V. — Afi Apartment in the Palace. 

Enter King, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra, Dion, Clere- 
MONT, THR.4SILINE, Bellario, ^/z^ Attendants. 

King. Is it appeased? 

Dion. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night, 
As peaceable as sleep. My lord Philaster 
Brings on the prince himself. 

King. Kind gentleman ! 
I will not break the least word I have given 
In promise to him : I have heaped a world 
Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope 
To wash away. 

Enter Philaster and Pharamond. 

Cle. My lord is come. 10 

King. My son ! 
Blest be the time that I have leave to call 
Such virtue mine ! Now thou art in mine arms, 

1 The speeches of the Captain, with their puns and strained metaphors, 
may have seemed witty once, but their wit evaporated long ago. Fashion in 
fun varies from age to age ; wisdom, pathos, subUmity, are more permanent. 



SCENE v.] PHILASTER. 355 

Methinks I have a salve unto my breast 

For all the stings that dwell there. Streams of grief 

That I have wronged thee, and as much of joy 

That I repent it, issue from mine eyes : 

Let them appease thee. Take thy right ; take her ; 

She is thy right too ; and forget to urge 

My vexed soul with that I did before. 20 

Phi. Sir, it is blotted from my memory, 
Past and forgotten. — For you, prince of Spain, 
Whom I have thus redeemed, you have full leave 
To make an honourable voyage home. 
And if you would go furnished to your realm 
With fair provision, I do see a lady, 
Methinks, would gladly bear you company : 
How like you this piece ? 

Meg. Sir, he likes it well. 
I know your meaning. 30 

Can shame remain perpetually in me, 
And not in others ? or have princes salves 
To cure ill names, that meaner people want? 

Phi. What mean you? 

Meg. You must get another ship. 
To bear the princess and her boy together. 

Dion. How now ! 

Meg. Ship us all four, my lord ; we can endure 
Weather and wind alike. 

King. Clear thou thyself, or know not me for father. 40 

Are. This earth, how false it is ! What means is left 
for me 
To clear myself? It lies in your belief : 
My lords, believe me ; and let all things else 
Struggle together to dishonour me. 



356 PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

Bel. Oh, stop your ears, great King, that I may speak 
As freedom would ! then I will call this lady 
As base as are her actions : hear me, sir ; 
Believe your heated blood when it rebels 
Against your reason, sooner than this lady. 

Meg. By this good hght, he bears it handsomely. 50 

Phi. This lady ! I will sooner trust the wind 
With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl, 
Than her with any thing. Believe her not. 
Why, think you, if I did believe her words, 
I would outlive 'em ? Honour cannot take 
Revenge on you ; then what were to be known 
But death ? 

King. Forget her, sir, since all is knit 
Between us. But I must request of you 
One favour, and will sadly be denied. 60 

Phi. Command, whate'er it be. 

King. Swear to be true 
To what you promise. 

Phi. By the powers above. 
Let it not be the death of her or him, 
And it is granted ! 

King. Bear away that boy 
To torture : I will have her cleared or buried. 

Phi. Oh, let me call my word back, worthy sir ! 
Ask something else : bury my life and right 70 

In one poor grave ; but do not take away 
My Hfe and fame at once. 

King. Away with him ! It stands irrevocable. 

Phi. Turn all your eyes on me : here stands a man, 
The falsest and the basest of this world. 
Set swords against this breast, some honest man. 



SCENE v.] PHILASTER. 357 

For I have lived till I am pitied ! 

My former deeds were hateful ; but this last 

Is pitiful, for I unwillingly 

Have given the dear preserver of my life 80 

Unto his torture. Is it in the power 

Of flesh and blood to carry this, and live ? 

[ Offers to stab himself. 

Ai-e. Dear sir, be patient yet ! Oh, stay that hand ! 

Ki7ig. Sirs, strip that boy. 

Dion. Come, sir, your tender flesh 
Will try your constancy. 

Bel. Oh, kill me, gentlemen ! 

Dion. No. — Help, sirs. 

Bel. Will you torture me ? 

King. Haste there ; 90 

Why stay you ? 

Bel. Then I shall not break my vow, 
You know, just gods, though I discover all. 

King. How's that ? will he confess ? 

Dion. Sir, so he says. 

King. Speak then. 

Bel. Great King, if you command 
This lord to talk with me alone, my tongue. 
Urged by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts 
My youth hath known ; and stranger things than these 100 
You hear not often. 

King. Walk aside with him. 

[Dion and Bellario walk apart. 

Dion. Why speak'st thou not? 

Bel. Know you this face, my lord ? 

Dion. No. 

Bel. Have you not seen it, nor the like ? 



358 PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

Dion. Yes, I have seen the Hke, but readily 
I know not where. 

Bel. I have been often told 
In court of one Euj^hrasia, a lady, no 

And daughter to you ; betwixt whom and me 
They that would flatter my bad face would swear 
There was such strange resemblance, that we two 
Could not be known asunder, drest alike. 

Dion. By Heaven, and so there is ! 

Bel. For her fair sake, 
Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life 
In holy pilgrimage, move to the King, 
That I may scape this torture. 

Dion. But thou speak'st 120 

As like Euphrasia as thou dost look. 
How came it to thy knowledge that she lives 
In pilgrimage? 

Bel. I know it not, my lord ; 
But I have heard it, and do scarce believe it. 

Dion. Oh, my shame ! is it possible ? Draw near, 
That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she, 
Or else her murderer? ^ where wert thou born? 

Bel. In Syracusa. 

Dion. What's thy name? 130 

Bel. Euphrasia. 

Dio7i. Oh, 'tis just, 'tis she ! 
Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died. 
And I had never seen thee nor my shame ! 
How shall I own thee ? shall this tongue of mine 
E'er call thee daughter more? 

1 In some countries the super.-,titious believed that the murderer inherited 
the form and qualities of liis victim. 



SCENE v.] PHILASTER. 35^ 

Bel. Would I had died indeed ! I wish it too : 
And so I must have done by vow, ere pubHshed 
What I have told, but that there was no means 
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this, J40 

The princess is all clear. 

King. What, have you done? 

Dion. All is discovered. 

Phi. Why then hold you me ? [ Offe7's to stab himself. 

All is discovered ! Pray you, let me go. 

King. Stay him. 

Are. What is discovered? 

Dion. Why, my shame. 
It is a woman : let her speak the rest. 

Phi. How? that again ! 150 

Dion. It is a woman. 

Phi. Blessed be you powers that favour innocence ! 

King. Lay hold upon that lady. [Megra is seized. 

Phi. It is a woman, sir ! — Hark, gentlemen, 
It is a woman ! — Arethusa, take 
My soul into thy breast, that would be gone 
With joy. It is a woman ! Thou art fair. 
And virtuous still to ages, in despite 
Of malice. 

King. Speak you, where lies his shame? 160 

Bel. I am his daughter. 

Phi. The gods are just. 

Dion. I dare accuse none ; but, before you two, 
The virtue of our age, I bend my knee 
For mercy. ~ {^Kneels. 

Phi. {raising hivi) . Take it freely; for I know, 
Though what thou didst were undiscreetly done, 
'Twas meant well. 



.-«^6o PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

Are. And for me, 
I have a power to pardon sins, as oft 170 

As any man has power to wrong me. 

Cle. Noble and worthy ! 

Phi. But, Bellario, 
(For I must call thee still so,) tell me why 
Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault, 
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds 
Of truth outweighed it : all these jealousies 
Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discovered 
What now we know. 

Bel. My father oft would speak 180 

Your worth and virtue ; and, as I did grow 
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst 
To see the man so praised. But yet all this 
Was but a maiden- longing, to be lost 
As soon as found ; till, sitting in my window, 
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, 
I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates : 
My blood flew out and back again, as fast 
As I had pufled it forth and sucked it in 
Like breath : then was I called away in haste lyo 

To entertain you. Never was a man. 
Heaved from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, raised 
So high in thoughts as I : you left a kiss 
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep 
From you for ever : I did hear you talk, 
Far above singing. After you were gone, 
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched 
What stirred it so : alas, I found it love ! 
Yet far from lust ; for, could I but have lived 
In presence of you, I had had my end. 200 



SCENE v.] PHILASTER. 361 

For this I did delude my noble father 

With a feigned pilgrimage, and dressed myself 

In habit of a boy ; and, for I knew 

My birth no match for you, I was past hope 

Of having you ; and, understanding well 

That when I made discovery of my sex 

I could not stay with you, I made a vow, 

By all the most religious things a maid 

Could call together, never to be known, 

Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes, 210 

For other than I seemed, that I might ever 

Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount, 

Where first you took me up. 

King. Search out a match 
Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt. 
And I will pay thy dowry ; and thyself 
Wilt well deserve him. 

Bel. Never, sir, will I 
Marry ; it is a thing within my vow : 

But, if I may have leave to serve the princess, 220 

To see the virtues of her lord and her, 
I shall have hope to live. 

Are. I, Philaster, 
Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady 
Drest like a page to serve you ; nor will I 
Suspect her living here. — Come, Hve with me ; 
Live free as I do. She that loves my lord. 
Cursed be the wife that hates her ! 

Phi. I grieve such virtue should be laid in earth 
Without an heir. — Hear me, my royal father : 230 

Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much. 
To think to take revenge of that base woman ; 



362 PHILASTER. [ACT V. 

Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free 
As she was born, saving from shame and sin. 

King. Set her at hberty. But leave the court ; 
This is no place for such. — You, Pharamond, 
Shall have free passage, and a conduct home 
Worthy so great a prince. When you come there, 
Remember 'twas your faults that lost you her, 
And not my purposed will. 240 

Pha. I do confess, 
Renowned sir. 

King. Last, join your hands in one. Enjoy, Philaster, 
This kingdom, which is yours, and, after me. 
Whatever I call mine. My blessing on you ! 
All happy hours be at your marriage-joys. 
That you may grow yourselves over all lands, 
And live to see your plenteous branches spring 
Wherever there is sun ! Let princes learn 
By this to rule the passions of their blood ; 250 

For what Heaven wills can never be withstood. 

[ Cnrtain falls} 

1 Of Euphrasia, disguised as Bellario, Dyce says : " She is one of our 
authors' most perfect creations, — unequalled in the romantic tenderness 
and the deep devotedness of her affection by any character which at all 
resembles her in the wide range of fiction, from her supposed prototype, 
the Viola of Shakespeare, down to the Constance of Scott and the Kaled 
of Byron." 






IV. 

THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN, 

By John^ Fletcher and William Shakespeare. 



Probably written between 1608 and 1612. The story is bor- 
wed from The Ki 
Boccaccio's Teseide, 



rowed from The Knighte's Tale of Chaucer, who took it from 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



DRAMATIS PERSON.^. 



Theseus, Duke of Athens. 

PlRlTHOUS, an Athenian General. 

Artesius, an Athenian Captain. 

Palamon, [ Nephews to Creon, 

Arcite, i King of Thebes. 

Valerius, a Theban Nobleman. 

Six Knights. 

A Herald. 

A Gaoler. 

Wooer to the Gaoler's Daughter. 

A Doctor. 

Brother to the Gaoler. 

Friends to the Gaoler. 



A Gentleman. 

Gerrold, a Schoolmaster. 

HlPPOLYTA, Bride to Theseus. 

Emilia, her Sister. 

Three Queens. 

The Gaoler's Daughter. 

Waiting-woman to Emilia. 

Countrymen, Messengers, a Man 
personating Hymen, Boy, Execu- 
tioners, Guard, and Attendants, 
Country Wenches, and Women 
personating Nymphs. 



Scene : Athens and the neighbourhood ; and in part of the first act, Thebes 
and the neighbourhood. 



PROLOGUE. 



Chaucer, of all admir'd, the story gives ; 

There constant to eternity it lives. 

If we let fall the nobleness of this, 

And the first sound this child hear be a hiss. 

How will it shake the bones of that good man, 



365 



366 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act I. 

And make him cry from under ground, " O, fan 

From me the widess chaff of such a writer 

That blasts my bays, and my fam'd works makes lighter 

Than Robin Hood ! " This is the fear we bring ; 

For, to say truth, it were an endless thing, 10 

And too ambitious, to aspire to him. 

Weak as we are, and almost breathless swim 

In this deep water, do but you hold out 

Your helping hands, and we shall tack lib out. 

And something do to save us : you shall hear 

Scenes, though below his art, may yet appear 

Worth two hours' travail. To his bones sweet sleep ! 

Content to you ! — If this play do not keep 

A Httle dull time from us, we perceive 

Our losses fall so thick, we needs must leave. \_FIourish. 20 



ACT 1} 

Scene I. — Athens. Before a Te7?iple. 

Enter Hymen, with a torch burning \ a Boy, in a white 
robe, before, singing and strewing fioivers ; after Hymen, 
a Nymph, encompassed in her tresses^- bearing a 7vheaten 
garland; then Theseus, between two other Nymphs with 
wheaten chaplets on their heads ; then Hippo lyta, the 
bride, led by Pirithous, and another holding a garland 
over her head, her tresses likewise hanging; after her, 
Emilia, holding up her train ; Artesius and Attendants. 

1 The First Act is attributed to Shakespeare by most of the critics. 

2 Emblem of virginity. 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



367 



The Song. \_Mtmc. 

Roses, their sharp spines being gone, 
Not royal in their smells alone, 

But in their hue ; 
Maiden ^ pinks, of odour faint, 
Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint. 

And sweet thyme true ; 

Primrose, first-born child of Ver, 
Merry spring-time'' s harbinger. 

With her bells dim; 
Oxlips in their cradles growiiig, 10 

Marigolds on death-beds blowifig, 
Larks'' -heels'^ trim ; 

All dear Nature's children sweet, 
Lie fore biide and bridegroom'' s feet, 

Blessing their se?isel [Strewing flowers. 
Not an angel of the air, — 
Bird melodious, or bird fair, — 

Be absent hence! 

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor 

The boding raven, nor chough hoar, 20 

Nor chattering pie. 
May on our bride-house perch or sing, 
Or 7tnth them any discord bring. 

But from it fly I ^ 

1 Fresh ; also used for strewing on the grave of a maiden, or faithful 
wife. 

2 Small Indian cress, or nasturtium. 

3 Dowden, Nicholson, Hargrove, and Fumivall think Shakespeare did 
not write this song ; Littledale is in doubt. 



368 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT I. 

Enter three Queens, in black, with veils stained, and with 
imperial crowns. The First Qy!iten falls down at the foot 
of Theseus ; the Second falls down at the foot of Hip- 
POLYTA ; the Third befoi-e Emilia. 

1st Queen. For pity's sake and true gentility's, 
Hear and respect me ! 

2d Quee7i. For your mother's sake. 

And as you wish yourself may thrive with fair ones. 
Hear and respect me ! 

3d Queen. Now for the love of him whom Jove hath 
mark'd 
The honour of your bed, and for the sake 30 

Of clear virginity, be advocate 
For us, and our distresses ! This good deed 
Shall raze ^ you out o' the book of trespasses 
All you are set down there. 

Theseus. Sad lady, rise. 

Hippolyta. Stand up. 

Emilia. No knees to me ! 

What woman I may stead," that is distress'd 
Does bind me to her. 

Theseus. What's your request? Deliver you for all. 

1st Queen. We are three queens, whose sovereigns fell 
before 
The wrath of cruel Creon ; who endure 40 

The beaks of ravens, talons of the kites. 
And pecks of crows, in the foul fields of Thebes. 
He will not suffer us to burn their bones. 
To urn their ashes, nor to take the offence 
Of mortal loathsomeness from the blest eye 

1 Erase for you. 2 Help. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 369 

Of holy Phoebus, but infects the winds 

With stench of our slain lords. O, pity, duke ! 

Thou purger of the earth, draw thy fear'd sword, 

That does good turns to the world ; give us the bones 

Of our dead kings, that we may chapel them ! 50 

And, of thy boundless goodness, take some note 

That for our crowned heads we have no roof 

Save this, which is the hon's and the bear's, 

And vault to everything ! 

Theseus. Pray you, kneel not ; 

I was transported with your speech, and suffer'd 
Your knees to wrong themselves. I have heard the fortunes 
Of your dead lords, which gives me such lamenting 
As wakes my vengeance and revenge for 'em. 
King Capaneus ^ was your lord : the day 
That he should marry you, at such a season 60 

As now it is with me, I met your groom 
By Mars's altar ; you were that time fair, 
Not Juno's mantle fairer than your tresses, 
Nor in more bounty spread her ; your wheaten wreath 
Was then nor thresh'd nor blasted ; Fortune at you 
Dimpled her cheek with smiles ; Hercules our kinsman — 
Then weaker than your eyes — laid by his club ; 
He tumbled down upon his Nemean hide, 
And swore his sinews thaw'd. O grief and time, 
Fearful consumers, you will all devour ! 70 

isi Queen. O, I hope some god, 
Some god hath put his mercy in your manhood, 
Whereto he'll infuse power, and press you forth 
Our undertaker ! 

Theseus. O, no knees, none, widow ! 

1 One of the seven heroes who marched from A^ci^os ngninst Thebes. 



370 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act I. 

Unto the helmeted Bellona^ use them, 

And pray for me, your soldier. — 

Troubled I am. \_Turns away. 

2d Queen. Honour'd Hippolyta, 
Most dreaded Amazonian, that hast slain 
The scythe-tusk'd boar ; that, with thy arm as strong 
As it is white, wast near to make the male 80 

To thy sex captive, but that this thy lord — 
Born to uphold creation in that honour 
First nature styl'd it in — shrunk thee into 
The bound thou wast o'erflowing, at once subduing 
Thy force and thy affection ; soldieress, 
That equally canst poise sternness with pity ; 
Who, now, I know, hast much more power on him 
Than e'er he had on thee ; who ow'st his strength 
And his love too, who is a servant^ for 

The tenour of thy speech ; dear glass of ladies, 90 

Bid him that we, whom flaming war doth scorch, 
Under the shadow of his sword may cool us ; 
Require him he advance it o'er our heads. 
Speak't in a woman's key, like such a woman 
As any of us three ; weep ere you fail ; 
Lend us a knee ; 

But touch the ground for us no longer time 
Than a dove's motion when the head's pluck'd off; 
Tell him, if he i' the blood-siz'd^ field lay swoln, 
Showing the sun his teeth, grinning at the moon, 100 

What you would do ! 

Hippolyta. Poor lady, s^y no more ; 

I had as hef trace this good action with you 

1 The Roman goddess of war. 

2 Obedient lover. s Made sticky with blood. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 371 

As that whereto I'm going, and ne'er yet 
Went I so wiUing way. My lord is taken 
Heart-deep with your distress : let him consider ; 
I'll speak anon. 

jd Qi/eefi. O, my petition was [Kneels to Emilia. 

Set down in ice, which by hot grief uncandied,^ 
Melts into drops ; so sorrow, wanting form, 
Is press'd with deeper matter. 

Emilia. Pray stand up ; 

Your grief is written in your cheek. 

jd Queen. O, woe ! no 

You cannot read it there ; there, through my tears, 
Like wrinkled pebbles in a glassy stream. 
You may behold 'em ! Lady, lady, alack. 
He that will all the treasure know o' the earth. 
Must know the centre too ; he that will fish 
For my least minnow, let him lead his line 
To catch one at my heart. O, pardon me ! 
Extremity, that sharpens sundry wits, 
Makes me a fool. 

Emilia. Pray you, say nothing, pray you ; 

Who cannot feel nor see the rain, being in't 120 

Knows neither wet nor dry. If that you were 
The ground-piece of some painter, I would buy you, 
T' instruct me 'gainst a capital grief indeed, — 
Such heart-pierc'd demonstration ! — but, alas, 
Being a natural^ sister of our sex. 
Your sorrow beats so ardently upon me, 
That it shall make a counter-reflect 'gainst 
My brother's heart, and warm it to some pity 
Though it were made of stone ; pray have good comfort ! 

1 Dissolved. 2 Real, not feigned. 



372 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT I. 

Theseus. Forward to the temple ! leave not out a jot 130 
O' the sacred ceremony. 

1st Queen, O, this celebration 

Will longer last, and be more costly, than 
Your suppliants' war ! Remember that your fame 
Knolls in the ear o' the world. What you do quickly 
Is not done rashly ; your first thought is more 
Than others' labour'd meditance ; your premeditating 
More than their actions ; but — O Jove ! — your actions. 
Soon as they move, as ospreys do the fish,^ 
Subdue before they touch. Think, dear duke, think 
What beds our slain kings have ! 

2d Queen. What griefs our beds, 140 

That our dear lords have none ! 

jd Queen. None fit for the dead ! 

Those that, with cords, knives, drams, precipitance,^ 
Weary of this world's light, have to themselves 
Been death's most horrid agents, human grace 
Affords them dust and shadow — 

1st Queen. But our lords 

Lie blistering 'fore the visitating^ sun, 
And were good kings when living. 

Theseus. It is true : 

And I will give you comfort. 
To give your dead lords graves ; the which to do 
Must make some work with Creon. 150 

1 Cf. Coriolanus, iv, 7 : 

" I think he'll be to Rome, 
As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it 
By sovereignty of nature." 

2 Those who take their own lives by hanging, stabbing, poison, and 
throwing themselves from a height. 

3 Surveying ; cf. Tempest, i, 2, 308. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 373 

1st Queen. And that work now presents itself to the 
doing ; 
Now 'twill take form ; the heats are gone to-morrow. 
Then bootless toil must recompense itself 
With its own sweat ; now he's secure, 
Not dreams we stand before your puissance, 
Rinsing our holy begging in our eyes, 
To make petition clear. 

2d Queen. Now you may take him, 

Drunk with his victory — 

jd Queen. And his army full 

Of bread and sloth. 

Theseus. Artesius, that best know'st 

How to draw out, fit to this enterprise, 160 

The prim'st for this proceeding, and the number 
To carry such a business, forth and levy 
Our worthiest instruments ; whilst we despatch 
This grand act of our life, this daring deed 
Of fate in wedlock ! 

1st Queen. Dowagers, take hands ! 

Let us be widows to our woes ! Delay 
Commends us to a famishing hope. 

All the Queens. Farewell ! 

2d Queen. We come unseasonably ; but when could grief 
Cull forth, as unpang'd judgment can, fitt'st time 
For best solicitation ? 

TheseiLs. Why, good ladies, 170 

This is a service, whereto I am going, 
Greater than any war ; it more imports me 
Than all the actions that I have foregone, 
Or futurely can cope. 

1st Queen. The more proclaiming 



374 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT I. 

Our suit shall be neglected. When her arms, 

Able to lock Jove from a synod,' shall 

By warranting moonlight corslet thee, O, when 

Her twinning cherries shall their sweetness fall 

Upon thy tasteful lips, what wilt thou think 

Of rotten kings or blubber'd ^ queens ? what care i8o 

For what thou feel'st not, what thou feel'st being able 

To make Mars spurn his drum ? O, if thou couch 

But one night with her, every hour in't will 

Take hostage of thee for a hundred, and 

Thou shalt remember nothing more than what 

That banquet bids ^ thee to ! 

Hippo fy fa {kneeling to Theseus). Though much unlike 
You should be so transported, as much sorry 
I should be such a suitor, yet I think. 
Did I not, by the abstaining of my joy. 
Which breeds a deeper longing, cure their surfeit^ 190 

That craves a present medicine, I should pluck 
All ladies' scandal on me. Therefore, sir, 
As I shall here make trial of my prayers. 
Either presuming them to have some force, 
Or sentencing for aye their vigour dumb, 
Prorogue this business we are going about, and hang 
Your shield afore your heart, about that neck 
Which is my fee,^ and which I freely lend 
To do these poor queens service. 

All Queens. O, help now ! \To Emilia. 

1 Assembly of the gods ; so Cymbeline, v, 4, 89, 

2 Disfigured by weeping. " The reader ought to recollect that formerly 
this word did not convey the somewhat ludicrous idea which it does at 
present." — Dyce. 

3 Invites. ■* Excess of grief. 5 Property. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 375 

Our cause cries for your knee. 

Efnilia {kfieeling to Theseus) . If you grant not 200 

My sister her petition, in that force, 
With that celerity and nature, which 
She makes it in, from henceforth I'll not dare 
To ask you anything, nor be so hardy 
Ever to take a husband. 

Theseus. Pray stand up ! 

[HipPOLYTA and Emilia rise. 
I am entreating of myself to do 
That which you kneel to have me. — Pirithous, 
Lead on the bride. Get you^ and pray the gods 
For success and return ; omit not anything 
In the pretended ^ celebration. — Queens, 210 

Follow your soldier. — As before, hence you, [71? Artesius. 
And at the banks of Aulis meet us with 
The forces you can raise, where we shall find 
The moiety of a number, for a business 
More bigger look'd. — {To Hippolyta) Since that our theme 

is haste, 
I stamp this kiss upon thy currant lip ; 
Sweet, keep it as my token ! — {^To Artesius) Set you for- 
ward ; 
For I will see you gone. — \^Exit Artesius. 

Farewell, my beauteous sister ! — Pirithous, 
Keep the feast full ; bate not an hour on't ! 

Pi7'ithous. Sir, 220 

I'll follow you at heels ; the feast's solemnity 
Shall want ^ till you return. 

Theseus. Cousin, I charge you. 

Budge not from Athens ; we shall be returning 

1 Get you hence. 2 Intended. 3 gg incomplete, 



376 THE TWO NOBLE KIXSMEN. [ACT I. 

Ere you can end this feast, of which, I pray you. 
Make no abatement. — Once more, farewell all ! 

[HippOLYTA, E-MiLiA, PiRiTHOUs, Hymen, Boy, Nymphs, 
and Attendants enter the temple. 

1st Queen. Thus dost thou still make good 
The tongue o' the world — 

2d Queen. And earn'st a deity 

Equal with Mars — 

jd Queen. If not above hmi ; for. 

Thou, being but mortal, mak'st affections bend 
To godlike honours ; they themselves, some say, 230 

Groan under such a mastery. 

Theseus. As we are men, 

Thus should we do ; being sensually subdued,^ 
We lose our human title. Good cheer, ladies ! 
Now turn we towards your comforts. \_Flourish. Exeunt^J- 

1 Overcome by our passions. 

2 This scene " has sometimes Shakespeare's identical images and words; 
it has his quaint force and sententious brevity, crowding thoughts and 
fancies into the narrowest space, and submitting to obscurity in preference 
to feeble dilation ; it has sentiments enunciated with reference to subor- 
dinate relations, which other writers would have expressed with less grasp of 
thought ; it has even Shakespeare's alliteration, and one or two of his singu- 
larities in conceit; it has clearness in the images taken separately, and 
confusion from the prodigality with which one is poured out after another, 
in the heat and hurry of imagination ; it has both fulness of illustration, and 
a variety which is drawn from the most distant sources ; and it has, thrown 
over all, that air of originality and that character of poetry, the principle of 
which is often hid when their presence and effect are most quickly and 
instinctively perceptible." — Spalding. 

" The first thing that seems to indicate the presence of the mind of 
Shakespeare is the clearness with which, in the first scene, we are put in 
possession of the exact state of affairs at the opening of the play, without 
any circumlocution or long-winded harangues, but naturally and dramati- 
cally. And, indeed, one of the most striking characteristics of Shake- 
speare is, if we may so express it, the downright honesty of his genius, that 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 377 

Scene II. — Thebes. The Court of the Palace. 
Enter Palamon and Arcite. 

Arcite. Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood, 
And our prime cousin, yet unharden'd in 
The crimes of nature, let us leave the city, 
Thebes, and the temptings in't, before we further 
Sully our gloss of youth : 
And here to keep in abstinence we shame 
As in incontinence ; for not to swim 
r the aid o' the current were almost to sink, 
At least to frustrate striving ; and to follow 
The common stream, 'twould bring us to an eddy 10 

Where we should turn or drown ; if labour through,^ 
Our gain but life and weakness. 

Palamon. Your advice 

Is cried up with exam^Dle. What strange ruins,^ 
Since first we went to school, may we perceive 
Walking in Thebes ! scars and bare weeds, 
The gain o' the martialist, who did propound 
To his bold ends honour and golden ingots, 

disdains anything like trick or mystery. This is almost peculiar to Shake- 
speare. Where, in his works, as much is revealed at the very opening as is 
necessary to the understanding of the plot, we find, in the works of other 
dramatists, as much kept back as possible ; and we are continually greeted 
with some surprise or startled with some unexpected turn in the conduct of 
the piece." — Hickson. 

1 If we should labor through it. 

2 " Not material ruins of houses, but wrecks of men, that is, men who 
are but wrecks of their former selves. Palamon is following up the idea 
started by Arcite, that the men in Thebes were mostly coming to ruin." 
— Skeat. 



378 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act i. 

Which though he won, he had not ; and now flurted ^ 

By Peace, for whom he fought ! Who then shall offer 

To Mars's so-scorn'd altar? I do bleed 20 

When such I meet, and wish great Juno would 

Resume her ancient fit of jealousy,^ 

To get the soldier work, that Peace might purge 

For her repletion, and retain anew 

Her charitable heart, now hard, and harsher 

Than strife or war could be. 

Arcite. Are you not out? 

Meet you no ruin but the soldier in 
The cranks and turns of Thebes ? You did begin 
As if you met decays of many kinds ; 

Perceive you none that do arouse your pity 30 

But the unconsider'd soldier? 

Falamon. Yes ; I pity 

Decays where'er I find them ; but such most 
That, sweating in an honourable toil. 
Are paid with ice to cool 'em. 

Arcite. 'Tis not this 

I did begin to speak of; this is virtue 
Of no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes, 
How dangerous, if we will keep our honours, 
It is for our residing ; where every evil 
Hath a good colour ; where every seeming good's 
A certain evil ; where not to be even jump ^ 
As they are here, were to be strangers, and 
Such things to be mere monsters. 

Falamon. It is in our power — 

Unless we fear that apes can tutor 's — to 

1 Scorned. 

2 Refers to the cause of the Trojan war. 3 Precisely. 



40 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN 



379 



Be masters of our manners. What need I 

Affect another's gait, which is not catching 

Where there is f-iith ^ ? or to be fond upon 

Another's way of speech, when by mine own 

I may be reasonably conceiv'd,- sav'd too, 

Speaking it truly? Why am I bound 

By any generous bond to follow him 50 

Follows his tailor, haply so long until 

The follow'd make pursuit? Or let me know 

Why mine own barber is unbless'd, with him 

My poor chin too, for 'tis not scissar'd just 

To such a favourite's glass ? What Canon is there 

That does command my rapier from my hip, 

To dangle't in my hand, or to go tip-toe 

Before the street be foul ! Either I am 

The fore-horse in the team, or I am none 

That draw i' the sequent trace. These poor slight sores 60 

Need not a plantain ; that which rips my bosom, 

Almost to the heart, 's — 

Arcite. Our uncle Creon. 

Palamon. He, 

A most unbounded tyrant, whose successes 
Makes heaven unfear'd, and villainy assur'd 
Beyond its power there's nothing ; almost puts 
Faith in a fever, and deifies alone 
Voluble chance ; who only attributes 
The faculties of other instruments 
To his own nerves and act ; commands men's service, 
And what they win in't, boot and glory ; one 70 

That fears not to do harm, good dares not. Let 
The blood of mine that's sib ^ to him be suck'd 

1 Self-reliance. 2 Understood. 3 Related to. 



8o THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT I. 



From me with leeches ! let them break and fall 
Off me with that corruption ! 

Arcite. Clear-spiritcl cousin, 

Let's leave his court, that we may nothing share 
Of his loud infamy ; for our milk 
Will relish of the pasture, and we must 
Be vile or disobedient, not his kinsmen 
In blood, unless in quality. 

Pala77ion. Nothing truer ! 

I think the echoes of his shames have deaf'd 80' 

The ears of heavenly justice ; widows' cries 
Descend again into their throats, and have not 
Due audience of the gods. — Valerius ! 

Enter Valerius. 

Valerius. The king calls for you ; yet be leaden- footed 
Till his great rage be off him. Phoebus, when 
He broke his whipstock and exclaim'd against 
The horses of the sun,' but whisper'd, to ^ 
The loudness of his fury. 

Pahiinon. Small winds shake him ; 

But what's the matter? 

Valerius. Theseus — who, where he threats, appals — hath 
sent 90 

Deadly defiance to him, and pronounces 
Ruin to Thebes ; who is at hand to seal 
The promise of his wrath. 

Arcite. Let him approach ! 

But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not 
A jot of terror to us ; yet what man 

1 Perhaps alludes to Phoebus's wrath after the death of Pluic lion, 

2 Compared to. 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



38' 



Thirds his own worth — the case is each of ours — 
When that his action's dregg'd with mind assur'd 
'Tis bad he goes about ?^ 

PdLimon. Leave that imreason'd ; 

Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon. 
Yet to be neutral to him were dishonour, 100 

RebeUious to oppose ; therefore we must 
With him stand to the mercy of our fate. 
Who hath bounded our last minute. 

Arcite. So we must. — 

Is't said this war's afoot ? or it shall be, 
On fail of some condition ? 

Valerius. 'Tis in motion ; 

The intelligence ^ of state came in the instant 
With the defier. 

Palajnon. Let's to the king, who, were he 

A quarter carrier of that honour which 
His enemy comes in, the blood we venture 
Should be as for our health ; which were not spent, no 

Rather laid out for purchase : but, alas. 
Our hands advanc'd before our hearts, what will 
The fall o' the stroke do damage ? 

Arcite. Let the event, 

That never- erring arbitrator, tell us 
When we know all ourselves ; and let us follow 
The becking of our chance. \_Exeunt.^ 

1 " What man can exert a third part of his powers when his mind is 
clogged with a consciousness that he fights in a bad cause ? " — Alasoft. 

'^ Messenger; cf. King John ^ iv, 2, 116. 

^ Of this scene Spaldtng says : " Its broken versification points out 
Shakespeare ; the quaintness of some conceits is his ; and several of the 
phrases and images have much of his pointedness, brevity, or obscurity. 
The scene, though not lofty in tone, does not want mterest, and contains 



382 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT I. 

Scene III. — Before the Gates of Athens. 
Enter Pirithous, Hippolyta, and Emilia. 

Pirithous. No further ! 

Hippolyta. Sir, farewell ! Repeat my wishes 

To our great lord, of whose success I dare not 
Make any timorous question ; yet I wish him 
Excess and overflow of i^ower, an't might be, 
To dare ill-dealing fortune. Speed to him ; 
Store ^ never hurts good governors. 

Pirithous. Though I know 

His ocean needs not my poor drops, yet they 
Must yield their tribute there. — My precious maid, 
Those best affections that the heavens infuse 
In their best-temper'd pieces keep enthron'd 10 

In your dear heart ! 

Emilia. Thanks, sir. Remember me 

To our all-royal brother, for whose speed 
The great Bellona I'll solicit ; and 
Since, in our terrene state, petitions are not 
Without gifts understood, I'll offer to her 
What I shall be advis'd she Hkes. Our hearts 
Are in his army, in his tent. 

Hippolyta. In's bosom ! 

some extremely original illustrations." Hlckson thinks " that either Shake- 
speare and Fletcher wrote the scene in conjunction, or that it was originally 
written by Fletcher, and afterwards revised and partly re-written by Shake- 
speare." Littledale asks : " Does it not therefore appear more likely that 
the view put forward by Spalding, and upheld by Dyce, Skeat, and Swin- 
burne — that Shakespeare was the first sketcher of the piece, Fletcher the 
' padder ' ; that the play is ' gilt o'er-dusted," rather than ' dust that is a little 
gilt ' gives after all the true explanation of the mystery ? " 
1 Abundance of men or money. 



SCENE 111.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 383 

We have been soldiers, and we cannot weep 

When our friends don their hehns or put to sea, 

Or tell of babes broach'd on the lance, or women 20 

That have sod ^ their infants in — and after eat them — 

The brine they wept at killing 'em ; then if 

You stay to see of us such spinsters, we 

Should hold you here for ever. 

Pirithous. Peace be to you, 

As I pursue this war ! which shall be then 
Beyond further requiring. \^Exit. 

Emilia. How his longing 

Follows his friend ! Since his depart his sports, 
Though craving seriousness and skill, pass'd slightly 
His careless execution, where nor gain 

Made him regard, or loss consider ; but 30 

Playing one business in his hand, another 
Directing in his head, his mind nurse equal 
To these so differing twins. Have you observ'd him 
Since our great lord departed ? 

Hippolyta. With much labour. 

And I did love him for't. They two have cabin'd 
In many as dangerous as poor a corner, 
Peril and want contending ; they have skiff' d 
Torrents, whose roaring tyranny and power 
I' the least of these was dreadful ; and they have 
Fought out together, where death's self was lodg'd, 40 

Yet fate hath brought them off. Their knot of love 
Tied, weav'd, entangled, with so true, so long. 
Ana with a finger of so deep a cunning. 
May be outworn, never undone. I think 
Theseus cannot be -umpire to himself, 
1 Seethed, boiled. 



384 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT I. 

Cleaving his conscience into twain, and doing 
Each side Hke justice, which he loves best. 

Emilia. Doubtless 

There is a best, and reason has no manners 
To say it is not you. I was acquainted 
Once with a time, when I enjoy'd a playfellow ; 50 

You were at wars when she the grave enrich'd, 
Who made too proud the bed, took leave o' the moon — 
Which then look'd pale at parting — when our count 
Was each eleven. 

Hippolyta. 'Twas Flavina. 

Emilia. Yes. 

You talk of Pirithous' and Theseus' love : 
Theirs has more ground, is more maturely season'd. 
More buckled with strong judgment, and their needs 
The one of th' other may be said to water 
Their intertangled roots of love ; but I 
And she I sigh and spoke of were things innocent, 60 

Lov'd for we did, and, hke the elements 
That know not what nor why, yet do effect 
Rare issues by their operance,^ our souls 
Did so to one another. What she lik'd. 
Was then of me approv'd ; what not, condemn'd. 
No more arraignment. The flower that I would pluck 
And put between my breasts — then but beginning 
To swell about the blossom — she would long 
Till she had such another, and commit it 
To the like innocent cradle, where phcenix-like 70 

They died in perfume. On my head no toy ^ 
But was her pattern ; her affections — pretty, 
Though happily her careless wear — I follow'd 

1 Operation. - Head-dress. 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 385 

For my most serious decking. Had mine ear 

Stol'n some new air, or at adventure humm'd one 

P'rom musical coinage, why, it was a note 

Whereon her spirits would sojourn — rather dwell on — 

And sing it in her slumbers. This rehearsal — 

Which, every innocent wots well, comes in 

Like old importment's bastard — has this end, 80 

That the true love 'tween maid and maid may be 

More than in sex dividual.^ 

Hippolyta. You're out of breath ; 

And this high-speeded pace is but to say, 
That you shall never, like the maid Flavina, 
Love any that's call'd man. 

Einilia. I am sure I shall not. 

Hippolyta. Now, alack, weak sister, 
I must no more believe thee in this point — 
Though in't I know thou dost beheve thyself — 
Than I will trust a sickly appetite. 

That loathes even as it longs. But sure, my sister, 90 

If I were ripe for your persuasion, you 
Have said enough to shake me from the arm 
Of the all-noble Theseus ; for whose fortunes 
I will now in and kneel, with great assurance, 
That we, more than his Pirithous, possess 
The high throne in his heart. 

Emilia. I am not 

Against your faith ; yet I continue mine.^ \_Exeunt, 

1 " The end of this long relation, as every innocent is aware, comes in 
like the ' illegitimate conclusion ' of a long story told very consequentially." 
— Littledale. 

2 This scene " has Shakespeare's stamp deeply cut upon it," and is 
" probably all his." — Spalding. " The friendship of Theseus and Pirithous 
becomes a natural introduction to the object of friendship in general, and 



386 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act 1. 



Scene IV. A Field before Thebes. 

Cornets. A battle struck withm ; then a retreat; then a 
flourish. Then enter Theseus, victor; the three Queeai 
meet hij7i and fall on their faces before him. 

1st Queen. To thee no star be dark ! 

2d Queen. Both heaven and earth 

Friend thee for ever ! 

jd Queen. All the good that may 

Be vvish'd upon thy head, I cry amen to't ! 

Theseus. The impartial gods, who from the mounted 
heavens 
View us their mortal herd, behold who err. 
And in their time chastise. Go and find out 
The bones of your dead lords, and honour them 
With treble ceremony. Rather than a gap 
Should be in their dear rites, we would supply't. 
But those we will depute which shall invest 10 

You in your dignities, and even each thing 
Our haste does leave imperfect. So adieu. 
And heaven's good eyes look on you ! — What are those? 

\_Exeunt Queens. 

female friendship in particular; and, in this light, the character of Emilia is 
shown so simple, so pure, yet so fervent, that we justify and account for her 
irresolution and inability to decide between the rivals, both of whom she 
admires without actually loving either. It is a scene, in fact, necessary to 
that perfection of character and consistency of purpose which but one 
writer of the age attained. Struck out, the play would still be intelligible, 
as no part of the action would thereby be lost; but Emilia would straight- 
way sink into one of those conventional characters that strange circum- 
stances throw into the power of the dramatist, and. judged by any other 
than his own peculiar standard, would certainly have httle claim upon our 
respect." — Hickson. 



SCENE IV.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 387 

Herald. Men of great quality, as may be judg'd 
By their appointment ; some of Thebes have told's 
They are sisters' children, nephews to the king, 

TJieseus. By the helm of Mars, I saw them in the war, 
Like to a pair of lions smear'd with prey, 
Make lanes in troops aghast ; I fix'd my note 
Constantly on them, for they were a mark 20 

Worth a god's view. What was't that prisoner told me. 
When I inquir'd their names ? 

Herald. We learn, they're call'd 

Arcite and Palamon. 

Theseus. 'Tis right ; those, those. 

They are not dead ? 

Herald. Nor in a state of life : had they been taken 
When their last hurts were given, 'twas possible 
They might have been recover'd ; yet they breathe. 
And have the name of men. 

Theseus. Then like men use 'em ; 

The very lees of such, millions of rates 

Exceed the wine of others. All our surgeons 30 

Convent in their behoof; our richest balms. 
Rather than niggard, waste : their lives concern us 
Much more than Thebes is worth. Rather than have 'em 
Freed of this plight, and in their morning state, 
Sound and at liberty, I would 'em dead ; 
But, forty thousand fold, we had rather have 'em 
Prisoners to us than death. Bear 'em speedily 
From our kind air — to them unkind — and minister 
What man to man may do ; for our sake, more : 
Since I have known fight's fury, friends' behests, 40 

Love's provocations, zeal, a mistress' task, 
Desire of liberty, a fever, madness, 



388 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT I. 

Hath set a mark — which nature could not reach to 

Without some imposition, — sickness in will, 

Or wrestling strength in reason. For our love 

And great Apollo's mercy, all our best 

Their best skill tender ! ^ — Lead into the city ; 

Where having bound things scatter'd, we will post 

To Athens 'fore our army. \_F/ounsh. Exeunt. 

Scene V. — Another Pai-t of the Field. 

Enter the Queens with the hearses of their husbands in a 
fu7ieral solemnity, etc. 

Song. 

Urns and odours bring away ! 

Vapours, sighs, darken the day / 

1 This corrupt passage has puzzled all the commentators. Skeat says : 
" It is clear that friends should be a genitive case, coupled as it is with 
Love's provocations ; and the suggestion _/^/z/' J y^r/ is a great improvement 
upon ihe fright's fury of the old editions. The introduction of in after zeal, 
as proposed by Mr. Dyce, is also a happy thought. But there we may as 
well stop. I understand the word that before Hath, nothing being com- 
moner in our dramatists than the omission of the relative ; and I retain 
Hath, without altering it, as some have done, to Have. I interpret it thus : 
' For I have known the fury of fight, the requisitions of friends, the provoca- 
tions of love, the zeal employed in executing a mistress's task, or the desire 
of liberty — to be (or, to amount to) a fever or a madness, which has pro- 
posed an aim (for endeavours) which the man's natural strength could not 
attain to, without at least some forcing, or some fainting of the will, or some 
severe struggle in the mind.' This is at least as good as any previous ex- 
planations, and further discussion of so difficult a passage would be useless. 
Imposition means demand or requirement, in an excessive degree." Little- 
dale adds : " Theseus directs that the prisoners shall be removed from all 
sights that might be suggestive of their captivity and so hinder their re- 
covery, since he knows that, among other causes, desire of liberty hath 
sometimes produced a degree of mental apathy or delirium {set a mark of 
sickness of will or wrestling strength in reason^ which could only be com- 
bated by practising some deception {nature could tiot reach to, etc.)." 



SCENE v.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 389 

^ Our dole^ more deadly looks than dying; 

Balms, and gums, and heavy cheers,^ 
Sacred vials filPd with tears, 
And clamours through the wild air flying! 
Come, all sad and soletnn shows, 
That are quick-eyed pleastire's foes ! 
We convent^ nought else but woes. 

We convent, etc. 10 

jd Queen. This funeral path brings to your household's 
grave. 
Joy seize on you again ! Peace sleep with him ! 
2d Queen. And this to yours ! 

1st Queen. Yours this way ! Heavens lend 

A thousand differing ways to one sure end ! 

jd Queen. This world's a city full of straying streets, 
And death's the market-place, where each one meets."* 

\_Exeunt severally.^ 

1 Sorrow. 2 Sad mien. 3 Bring together. 

4 An old epitaph in the churchyard of Abernethy, Scotland, runs thus : — 

" The world's a city 
Full of streets, 
And death's a market 
That every one meets; 
But if life were a thing 
That money could buy, 
The poor could not live 
And the rich would not die." 

5 Littledale doubts that Shakespeare wrote this scene. 



390 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT II. 



ACT II. 

Scene I.^ — Athens. A Garden, with a Castle in the Back- 
groicnd. 

Enter Gaoler and Wooer. 

Gaoler. I may depart with little, while I live ; something 
I may cast to you, not muph. Alas, the prison I keep, 
though it be for great ones, yet they seldom come ; be- 
fore one salmon, you shall take a number of minnows. I am 
given out to be better lined than it can appear to me report 
is a true speaker ; I would I were really that I am deHvered 
to be ! Marry, what I have — be it what it will — I will 
assure upon my daughter at the day of my death. 

Wooer. Sir, I demand no more than your own offer ; and 
I will estate your daughter in v.'hat I have promised. lo 

Gaoler. Well, we will talk more of this when the solem- 
nity is past. But have you a full promise of her? When 
that shall be seen, I tender my consent. 

Wooer. I have, sir. Here she comes. 

Enter Gaoler's Daughter, with rushes. 

Gaoler. Your friend and I have chanced to name you 
here, upon the old business : but no more of that now. So 
soon as the court-hurry is over, we will have an end of it. 
I' the mean time, look tenderly to the two prisoners. I can 
tell you they are princes. 19 

1 Hickson, Coleridge and Littledale attribute this scene to Shakespeare ; 
Weber, Spalding, and Dyce to Fletcher. 



SCENE I.] * THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 39 1 

Daughter. These strewings are for their chamber. 'Tis 
pity they are in prison, and 'twere pity they should be 
out. I do think they have patience to make any adversity 
ashamed ; the prison itself is proud of 'em, and they have all 
the world in their chamber. 

Gaoler. They are famed to be a pair of absolute men. 

Daughter. By my troth, I think fame but stammers 'em ; 
they stand a grise ^ above the reach of report. 

Gaoler. I heard them reported in the battle to be the 
only doers. 

Daughter. Nay, most likely ; for they are noble sufferers. 
I marvel how they would have looked, had they been vic- 
tors, that with such a constant nobility enforce a freedom 
out of bondage, making misery their mirth, and affliction a 
toy to jest at. 34 

Gaoler. Do they io ? 

Daughter. It seems to me, they have no more sense of 
their captivity, than I of ruling Athens ; they eat well, look 
merrily, discourse of many things, but nothing of their own 
restraint and disasters. Yet sometime a divided sigh, mar- 
tyred as 'twere i' the deliverance, will break from one of 
them ; when the other presently gives it so sweet a rebuke, 
that I could wish myself a sigh to be so chid, or at least a 
sigher to be comforted. 43 

Wooer. I never saw 'em. 

Gaoler. The duke himself came privately in ihe night, 
and so did they ; what the reason of it is, I know not. — 
(Palamon and Arcite appear at a window, above.) Look, 
yonder they are ! that's Arcite looks out. 

Daughter. No, sir, no ; that's Palamon. Arcite is the 
lower of the twain ; you may perceive a part of him. 50 

1 Step. 



392 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. , [act ii. 

Gaoler. Go to, leave your pointing ! They would not 
make us their object ; out of their sight ! 

Daughter. It is a holiday to look on them ! Lord, the 

difference of men ! \_Exeunt. 



Scene II.^ — A Room in the Prison. 
Enter Palamon and Arcite. 

Falamo7i. How do you, noble cousin? 

Arcite. How do you, sir? 

Palamon. Why, strong enough to laugh at misery, 
And bear the chance of war yet. We are prisoners 
I fear for ever, cousin. 

Arcite. I believe it ; 

And to that destiny have patiently 
Laid up my hour to come. 

Palamo7i. O cousin Arcite, 

Where is Thebes now? where is our noble country? 
Where are our friends and kindreds ? Never more 
Must we behold those comforts ; never see 
The hardy youths strive for the games of honour, lo 

Hung with the painted favours of their ladies, 
Like tall ships under sail ; then start amongst 'em. 
And, as an east wind, leave 'em all behind us 
Like lazy clouds, whilst Palamon and Arcite, 
Even in the wagging of a wanton leg, 
Outstripp'd the people's praises, won the garlands, 
Ere they have time to wish 'em ours. O, never 
Shall we two exercise, like twins of honour, 

1 Weber, Dyce, and Skeat make no separation between this scene and the 
preceding ; but the Quarto does. 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 393 

Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses 

Like proud seas under us ! Our good swords now — 20 

Better the red-eyed god of war ne'er wore — 

Ravish'd^ our sides, Hke age, must run to rust, 

And deck the temples of those gods that hate us ; 

These hands shall never draw 'em out like lightning, 

To blast whole armies, more ! 

Arcite. No, Palamon, 

Those hopes are prisoners with us : here we are. 
And here the graces of our youths must wither. 
Like a too-timely spring ; here age must find us, 
And, which is heaviest, Palamon, unmarried ; 
The sweet embraces of a loving wife, 30 

Loaden with kisses, arm'd with thousand Cupids, 
Shall never clasp our necks ; no issue know us, 
No figures of ourselves shall we e'er see, 
To glad our age, and like young eagles teach 'em 
Boldly to gaze against bright arms, and say, 
" Remember what your fathers were, and conquer ! " 
The fair-eyed maids shall weep our banishments. 
And in their songs curse ever-blinded Fortune, 
Till she for shame see what a wrong she has done 
To youth and nature. This is all our world ; 40 

We shall know nothing here but one another. 
Hear nothing but the clock that tells our woes ; 
The vine shall grow, but we shall never see it ; 
Summer shall come, and with her all delights. 
But dead-cold winter must inhabit here still. 

Pala7non. 'Tis too true, Arcite. To our Theban hounds, 
That shook the aged forest with their echoes, 
No more now must we halloo ; no more shake 
1 Torn from. 



394 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT II. 

Our pointed javelins, whilst the angry swine 

Flies like a Parthian quiver from our rages, 50 

Stuck with our well-steel'd darts ! All vaUant uses — 

The food and nourishment of noble minds — 

In us two here shall perish ; we shall die — •. 

Which is the curse of honour — lazily, 

Children of grief and ignorance. 

A r cite. Yet, cousin, 

Even from the bottom of these miseries, 
From all that fortune can inflict upon us, 
I see two comforts rising, two mere blessings, 
If the gods please to hold here, — a brave patience, 
And the enjoying of our griefs together. 60 

Whilst Palamon is with me, let me perish 
If I think this our prison. 

Palamon. Certainly, 

'Tis a main goodness, cousin, that our fortunes 
Were twin'd together : 'tis most true, two souls 
Put in two noble bodies, let 'em suffer 
The gall of hazard, so they grow together. 
Will never sink ; they must not ; say they could, 
A wilHng man dies sleeping, and all's done. 

Arcite. Shall we make worthy uses of this place, 
That all men hate so much ? 

Palamon. How, gentle cousin? 70 

Arcite. Let's think this prison holy sanctuary, 
To keep us from corruption of worse men. 
We are young, and yet desire the ways of honour. 
That liberty and common conversation, 
The poison of pure spirits, might, like women, 
Woo us to wander from. What worthy blessing 
Can be, but our imaginations 
May make it ours ? and here being thus together. 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 395 

We are an endless mine to one another ; 

We are one another's wife, ever begetting 80 

New births of love ; we are father, friends, acquaintance ; 

W^e are, in one another, famiUes ; 

I am your heir, and you are mine ; this place 

Is our inheritance ; no hard oppressor 

Dare take this from us ; here, with a Httle patience, 

We shall live long, and loving ; no surfeits seek us ; 

The hand of war hurts none here, nor the seas 

Swallow their youth. Were we at liberty, 

A wife might part us lawfully, or business ; 

Quarrels consume us ; envy of ill men 90 

Grave ^ our acquaintance ; I might sicken, cousin, 

Where you should never know it, and so perish 

Without your noble hand to close mine eyes. 

Or prayers to the gods : a thousand chances, 

Were we from hence, would sever us. 

Palamon. You have made me — 

I thank you, cousin Arcite — almost wanton 
With ray captivity ; what a misery 
It is to live abroad, and everywhere ! 
'Tis like a beast, methinks ! I find the court here, 
I am sure, a more content ; and all those pleasures, 100 

That woo the wills of men to vanity, 
I see through now ; and am sufficient • 

To tell the world, 'tis but a gaudy shadow. 
That old Time, as he passes by, takes with him. 
What had we been, old in the court of Creon, 
Where sin is justice, lust and ignorance 
The virtues of the great ones ! Cousin Arcite, 
Had not the loving gods found this place for us, 

1 Bury. 



396 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act ii. 

We had died as they do, ill old men, unwept. 

And had their epitaphs, the peoples' curses. no 

Shall I say more? 

Arcite. I would hear you still. 

Palamon. Ye shall. 

Is there record of any two that lov'd 
Better than we do, Arcite ? 

Arcite. Sure, there cannot. 

Palani07i. I do not think it possible our friendship 
Should ever leave us. 

Arcite. Till our deaths it cannot j 

And after death our spirits shall be led 
To those that love eternally. Speak on^ sir. 

Enter Emilia and Waiting- woman, below. 

Emilia. This garden has a world of pleasures in't. 
What flower is this ? 

Waiting-woman. 'Tis call'd narcissus, madam. 

Emilia. That was a fair boy, certain, but a fool 120 

To love himself; were there not maids enough? 

Arcite. Pray, forward. 

Palamon. Yes. 

Emilia. Or were they all hard-hearted ? 

Waiting-woman. They could not be to one so fair. 

Emilia. * Thou would'st not ? 

Waiting-woman. I think I should not, madam. 

Ei?iilia. That's a good wench ; 

But take heed to your kindness though ! 

Waiting-woman. Why, madam? 

Emilia. Men are mad things. 

Arcite. Will ye go forwnrd, cousin? 

Emilia. Canst thou not work such flowers in silk, wench? 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 397 

Waiting-7Voman. Yes. 

Emilia. I'll have a gown full of 'em ; and of these ; 
This is a pretty colour : will't not do 
Rarely upon a skirt, wench ? 

Waiting-woman. Dainty, madam. 130 

Arcite. Cousin ! Cousin ! How do you, sir? Why, Pala- 
mon ! 

Palamon. Never till now I was in prison, Arcite. 

Arcite. Why, what's the matter, man? 

Palamon. Behold, and wonder ! 

By heaven, she is a goddess ! 

Arcite. Ha ! 

PaLunon. Do reverence ! 

She is a goddess, Arcite ! 

Emilia. Of all flowers 

Methinks a rose is best. 

Waiting-woman. Why, gentle madam? 

Emilia. It is the very emblem of a maid ; 
For when the west wind courts her gently, 
How modestly she blows, and paints the sun 
With her chaste blushes ! when the north comes near her, 
Rude and impatient, then, like chastity, 141 

She locks her beauties in her bud again,^ 
And leaves him to base briers. 

Arcite. She is wondrous fair ! 

Palamon. She is all the beauty extant ! 

Ejnilia. The sun grows high ; let's walk in. Keep these 
flowers ; 
We'll see how near art can come near their colours. 

\_Exit with Waiting-woman. 

Palamon. What think you of this beauty? 

1 Cf. Keats's " As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again." 



398 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act ii. 

Arcite. 'Tis a rare one. 

Falamon. Is't but a rare one ? 

Arcite. Yes, a matchless beauty. 

Falamon. Might not a man well lose himself, and love 
her? 

A?'cite. I cannot tell what you have done ; I have, 150 
Beshrew mine eyes for't ! Now I feel my shackles. 

Falamon. You love her then ? 

Arcite. Who would not? 

Falamon. And desire her? 

Arcite. Before my liberty. 

Falanion. I saw her first. 

Arcite. That's nothing. 

Falamon. But it shall be. 

Arcite. I saw her too. 

Falamon. Yes ; but you must not love her. 

Arcite. I will not, as you do, to worship her, 
As she is heavenly and a blessed goddess : 
I love her as a woman, to enjoy her ; 
Sd both may love. 

Falamon. You shall not love at all. 

Arcite. Not love at all? who shall deny me? 160 

Falamon. I that first saw her ; I that took possession 
First with mine eyes of all those beauties in her 
Reveal'd to mankind ! If thou lovest her, 
Or entertain'st a hope to blast my wishes. 
Thou art a traitor, Arcite, and a fellow 
False as thy title to her ; friendship, blood, 
And all the ties between us I disclaim. 
If thou once think upon her ! 

Arcite. Yes, I love her;' 

And if the lives of all my name lay on it, 



SCENE 11.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 399 

I must do so ; I love her with my soul. 170 

If that will lose ye, farewell, Palamon ! 

I say again, I love ; and, in loving her, maintain 

I am as worthy and as free a lover, 

And have as just a title to her beauty. 

As any Palamon, or any living 

That is a man's son. 

Palamon. Have I call'd thee friend? 

Arcite. Yes, and have found me so. Why are you mov'd 
thus? 
Let me deal coldly with you : am not I 
Part of your blood, part of your soul ? you have told me 
That I was Palamon, and you were Arcite. 180 

Palamon. Yes. 

Arcite. Am not I liable to those affections, 

Those joys, griefs, angers, fears, my friend shall suffer? 

Palamon. Ye may be. 

Arcite. Why then would you deal so cunningly, 

So strangely, so unlike a noble kinsman. 
To love alone ? Speak truly ; do you think me 
Unworthy of her sight ? 

Palamon. No ; but unjust 

If thou pursue that sight. 

Arcite. Because another 

First sees the enemy, shall I stand still. 
And let mine honour down, and never charge ? 

Palafjton. Yes, if he be but one. 

Arcite. But say that one 190 

Had rather combat me ? 

Palamon. Let that one say so, 

And use thy freedom ; else, if thou pursuest her. 
Be as that cursed man that hates his country. 



400 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT II. 

A branded villain ! 

Arcite. You are mad. 

Palamon, I must be, 

Till thou art worthy, Arcite ; it concerns me ; 
And, in this madness, if I hazard thee 
And take thy life, I deal but truly. 

Arcite. Fie, sir ! 

You play the child extremely : I will love her, 
I must, I ought to do so, and I dare ; 
And all this justly. 

Palamon. O, that now, that now, 200 

Thy false self and thy friend had but this fortune, 
To be one hour at liberty, and grasp 
Our good swords in our hands ! I'd quickly teach thee 
What 'twere to filch affection from another ! 
Thou art baser in it than a cutpurse ! 
Put but thy head out of this window more, 
And, as I have a soul, I'll nail thy life to't ! 

Arcite. Thou dar'st not, fool; thou canst not; thou art 
feeble. 
Put my head out ! I'll throw my body out, 
And leap the garden, when I see her next, 210 

And pitch between her arms, to anger thee. 

Palamon. No more ! the keeper's coming ; I shall live 
To knock thy brains out with my shackles. 

Arcite. Do ! 

Enter Gaoler. 

Gaoler. By your leave, gentlemen. 

Pala??to7t. Now, honest keeper? 

Gaoler. Lord Arcite, you must presently to the duke ; 
The cause I know not yet. 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 401 

Arcite. I am ready, keeper. 

Gaoler. Prince Palamon, I must awhile bereave you 
Of your fair cousin's company. \_Exit with Arcite. 

Palamon. And me too, 

Even when you please, of life. — Why is he sent for? 
It may be, he shall marry her ; he's goodly, 220 

And like enough the duke hath .taken notice 
Both of his blood and body. But his falsehood ! 
Why should a friend be treacherous ? If that 
Get him a wife so noble and so fair. 
Let honest men ne'er love again ! Once more 
I would but see this fair one. — Blessed garden. 
And fruit and flowers more blessed, that still blossom 
As her bright eyes shine on ye ! Would I were, 
For all the fortune of my Hfe hereafter, 
Yon little tree, yon blooming apricock ! ^ 230 

How I would spread, and fling my wanton arms 
In at her window ! I would bring her fruit 
Fit for the gods to feed on ; youth and pleasure. 
Still as she tasted, should be doubled on her ; 
And if she be not heavenly, I would make her 
So near the gods in nature, they should fear her ; 
And then I am sure she would love me. — 

Re-enter Gaoler. 

How now, keeper ! 
Where's Arcite? 

Gaoler, Banish'd. Prince Pirithous 

Obtain'd his liberty ; but never more, 

Upon his oath and life, must he set foot 240 

Upon this kingdom. 

1 Apricot. 



402 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT li. 

Falamoji. He's a blessed man ! 

He shall see Thebes again, and call to arms 
The bold young men that, when he bids 'em charge, 
Fall on like fire. Arcite shall have a fortune, 
If he dare make himself a worthy lover, 
Yet in the field to strike a battle for her ; 
And if he lose her then, he's a cold coward. 
How bravely may he bear himself to win her, 
If he be noble Arcite, thousand ways ! 

Were I at liberty, I would do things 250 

Of such a virtuous greatness that this lady. 
This blushing virgin, should take manhood to her, 
And seek to ravish me ! 

Gaoler. My lord, for you 

I have this charge too — 

Palajnon. To discharge my life? 

Gaoler. No ; but from this place to remove your lord- 
ship ; 
The windows are too open. 

Pala??i07i. Devils take 'em. 

That are so envious to me ! Prithee, kill me ! 

Gaoler. And hang for't afterward ? 

Falafnon. By this good Hght, 

Had I a sword, I'd kill thee ! 

Gaoler. Why, my lord ? 

Palamon. Thou bring'st such pelting^ scurvy news con- 
tinually, 260 
Thou art not worthy life ! I will not go. 

Gaoler. Indeed you must, my lord. 

Palamon. May I see the garden ? 

Gaoler. No. 

1 Paltry, contemptible. 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 403 

Palamon. Then I am resolv'd I will not go. 

Gaoler. I must . 

Constrain you then ; and, for you are dangerous, 
I'll clap more irons on you. 

Palamon. Do, good keeper ! 

I'll shake 'em so, ye shall not sleep ; 
I'll make ye a new morris ! ^ Must I go? 

Gaoler. There is no remedy. 

Palamon. Farewell, kind window ! 

May rude wind never hurt thee ! — O my lady, 
If ever thou hast felt what sorrow was, 270 

Dream how I suffer ! — Come, now bury me. l^Exeunt? 

ScENE III. — The Country near Athens. 

Enter Arcite. 

Arcite. Banish'd the kingdom ? 'Tis a benefit, 
A mercy I must thank 'em for ; but banish'd 
The free enjoying of that face I die for, 
0,'twas a studied punishment, a death 
Beyond imagination ! such a vengeance 
That, were I old and wicked, all my sins 
Could never pluck upon me. — Palamon, 
Thou hast the start now ; thou shalt stay and see 
Her bright eyes break each morning 'gainst thy window, 
And let in Rfe into thee ; thou shalt feed 10 

Upon the sweetness of a noble beauty, 
That nature ne'er exceeded, nor ne'er shall. 
Good gods, what happiness has Palamon ! 

1 Morris-dance. 

2 The critics generally assign this scene and the rest of Act ii to 
Fletcher. 



404 THE TWO NOBLE KINS^(IEN. [act II. 

Twenty to one, he'll come to speak to her ; 

And, if she be as gentle as she's fair, 

I know she's his ; he has a tongue will tame 

Tempests, and make the wild rocks wanton. Come what 

can come, 
The worst is death ; I will not leave the kingdom. 
I know mine own is but a heap of ruins, 
And no redress there ; if I go, he has her. 20 

I am resolv'd ; another shape shall make me,^ 
Or end my fortunes ; either way, I'm happy : 
I'll see her, and be near her, or no more. 

Enter four Countrymen ; one with a ga?'land before them. 

1st Countryman. My masters, I'll be there, that's certain. 

2d Countryman. And I'll be there. 

jd Countryman. And I. 

4th Countryman. Why then, have with ye, boys, 'tis but 
a chiding ; 
Let the plough play to-day ! I'll tickle 't out 
Of the jades' tails to-morrow ! 

1st Countryman. ' I am sure 

To have my wife as jealous as a turkey : 
But that's all one ; I'll go through, let her mumble. 30 

3d Countryman. Do we all hold^ against the Maying? 

4th Countryntan. Hold ! what should ail us? 

jd Cou7it?j?nan. Areas will be there. 

2d Countryman. And Sennois, 
And Rycas ; and three better lads ne'er danc'd 
Under green tree ; and ye know what wenches, ha ! 
But will the dainty domine, the schoolmaster, 

1 By assuming a disguise I shall succeed. 

2 Hold to an agreement. 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 405 

Keep touch/ do you think ? for he does all, ye know. 

3d Countryman. He'll eat a horn-book/ ere he fail ; 
go to ! 
The matter's too far driven between 

Him and the tanner's daughter, to let slip now ; 40 

And she must see the duke, and she must dance too. 

4th Country7nan. Shall we be lusty ? 

2d Countryman. Here I'll be, 

And there I'll be, for our town ; and here again, 
And there again ! Ha, boys, heigh for the weavers ! ^ 

1st Countryman. This must be done i' the woods. 

4th Countryman. O, pardon me ! 

2d Countryinan. By any means ; our thing of learning 
says so ; 
Where he himself will edify the duke 

Most parlously"* in our behalfs : he's excellent i' the woods ; 
Bring him to th' plains, his learning makes no cry. 

3d Cou7itryman. We'll see the sports ; then every man 
to's tackle ! 50 

And, sweet companions, let's rehearse by any means, 
Before the ladies see us, and do sweetly. 
And God knows what may come on't. 

4th Countryman. Content ; the sports 

Once ended, we'll perform. Away, boys, and hold ! 

Arcite. By your leaves, honest friends ; pray you, whither 
go you ? 

1 Keep his appointment ; a phrase of doubtful origin. Nicholson says 
that it probably came from the custom of shaking hands on a bargain or 
agreement. Cf. the old word handfast. 

2 The child's primer, which at first was a single leaf, containing the 
Lord's Prayer and alphabet, set in a frame of wood, and covered with 
horn to keep it from being soiled or torn. 

3 " Hurrah for the singers ! " Weavers excelled in singing. 
■* Amazingly. 



406 THE TWO NOBLE KIXSMEX. [act II. 

4th Countryman. Whither? why, what a question's that ! 

Arcite. Yes, 'tis a question 

To me that know not. 

jd Cotint7'yman. To the games, my friend. 

2d Countryman. Where were you bred, you know it not ? 

Arcite. Not far, sir. 

Are there such games to-day? 

1st Countryjfian. Yes, marry, are there ; 

And such as you ne'er saw : the duke himself 60 

Will be in person there. 

Arcite. What pastimes are they? 

2d Countryman. Wrestling and running. — Tis a pretty 
fellow. 

jd Countryman. Thou wilt not go along ? 

A7'cite. Not yet, sir. 

4th Countryman. Well, sir, 

Take your own time, — Come, boys ! 

1st Countryman. My mind misgives me 

This fellow has a vengeance trick o' the hip ; ^ 
Mark, how his body's made for't ! 

2d Countryman. I'll be hang'd though 

j.f he dare venture ; hang him, plum-porridge ! 
He wrestle ? He roast eggs ! ^ Come, let's be gone, lads. 

\_Exeunt Countrymen. 

Arcite. This is an offer'd opportunity 
I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled, 70 

The best men call'd it excellent ; and run 
Swifter than wind upon a field of com, 
Curling the wealthy ears, e'er flew. I'll venture, 

1 In wrestling, 

2 A contemptuous expression, intimating that the rustic thought Arcite 
good for nothing. 



SCENE IV.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 407 

And in some poor disguise be there ; who knows 

Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands, 

And happiness prefer me to a place 

Where I may ever dwell in sight of her ? \_Exit. 



Scene IV. — Athens. A Room in the Prison. 

Enter Gaoler's Daughter. 

Daitghter. Why should I love this gentleman? 'Tis odds 
He never will affect ^ me ; I am base, 
My father the mean keeper of his prison. 
And he a prince : to marry him is hopeless. 
To love him else is witless. Out upon't ! 
What pushes are we wenches driven to. 
When fifteen once has found us ! First, I saw him ; 
I, seeing, thought he was a goodly man ; 
He has as much to please a woman in him — • 
If he please to bestow it so — as ever 10 

These eyes yet look'd on : next, I pitied him ; 
And so would any young wench, o' my conscience. 
That ever dream 'd, or vow'd her whole affection 
To a young handsome man : then, I lov'd him ! 
Extremely lov'd him, infinitely lov'd him ! 
And yet he had a cousin, fair as he too ; 
But in my heart was Palamon, and there, 
Lord, what a coil he keeps ! To hear him 
Sing in an evening, what a heaven it is ! 
And yet his songs are sad ones. Fairer spoken 20 

Was never gentleman ; when I come in 
To bring him water in a morning, first 
1 Love. 



408 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act II. 

He bows his noble body, then salutes me thus : 

" Fair gentle maid, good morrow ! may thy goodness 

Get thee a happy husband ! " Once, he kiss'd me ; 

I Jov'd my lips the better ten days after : 

Would he would do so every day ! He grieves much. 

And me as much to see his misery. 

What should I do, to make him know I love him? 

For I would fain possess him : say I ventur'd 30 

To set him free ? what says the law then ? 

Thus much for law, or kindred ! I will do it. 

And this night or to-morrow he shall love me. \_ExiL 



Scene V. — A71 Open Place in Athens. A Shoi't Flourish 
of Cor7i€ts, and Shouts within. 

Ente?" Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Emilia ; Arcitz, 
disguised, wearing a garland ; and Countrymen. 

Theseus. You have done worthily ; I have not seen, 
Since Hercules, a man of tougher sinews. 
Whate'er you are, you run the best and wrestle. 
That these times can allow. 

Arcite. I am proud to please you. 

Theseus. What country bred you ? 

Arcite. This ; but far off, prince. 

Theseus. Are you a gentleman ? 

Arcite. My father said so. 

And to those gentle uses gave me life. 

Theseus. Are you his heir? 

Arcite, His youngest, sir. 

Theseus. Your father. 

Sure, is a happy sire, then. What proves you ? 



SCENE v.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 409 

Af'cife. A little of all noble qualities : to 

I could have kept a hawk, and well have halloo'd 
To a deep cry of dogs ; I dare not praise 
My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me 
Would say it was my best piece ; last, and greatest, 
I would be thought a soldier. 

Theseus. You are perfect. 

Plrithous. Upon my soul, a proper man ! 

Emilia. He is so. 

Pirithous. How do you like him, lady ? 

Hippolyta. I admire him ; 

I have not seen so young a man so noble, 
If he say true, of his sort. 

Ei7iilia. Believe, 

His mother was a wondrous handsome woman ; 20 

His face methinks goes that way. 

Hippolyta. But his body 

And fiery mind illustrate a brave father. 

Pirithous. Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun. 
Breaks through his baser garments ! 

Hippolyta. He's well got, sure. 

Theseus. What made you seek this place, sir? 

Arcite. Noble Theseus, 

To purchase name, and do my ablest service 
To such a well-found wonder as thy worth ; 
For only in thy court, of all the world. 
Dwells fair-eyed Honour. 

Pirithous. All his words are worthy. 

Theseus. Sir, we are much indebted to your travail, 30 
Nor shall you loose your wish. — Pirithous, 
Dispose of this fair gentleman. 

Pirithous. Thanks, Theseus. — 



4IO THE TWO NOBLE KIXSAIEN. [act II. 

Whate'er you are, you're mine ; and I shall give you 
To a most noble service, — to this lady. 
This bright young virgin : pray observe her goodness. 
You've honour'd her fair birthday with your virtues, 
And, as your due, you're hers ; kiss her fair hand, sir. 

A7'cite. Sir, you're a noble giver. — Dearest beauty, 
Thus let me seal my vow'd faith ! when your servant — • 
Your most unworthy creature — but offends you, 40 

Command him die, he shall. 

Emilia. That were too cruel. 

If you deserve well, sir, I shall soon see't : 
You're mine ; and somewhat better than your rank 
I'll use you. 

Pirithous. I'll see you furnish'd : and because you say 
You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you 
This afternoon to ride ; but 'tis a rough one. 

Arcite. I like him better, prince ; I shall not then 
Freeze in my saddle. 

Theseus. Sweet, you must be ready — 

And 3^ou, EmiHa — and you, friend — and all — 5c 

To-morrow, by the sun, to do observance 
To flow'ry May, in Dian's wood. — Wait well, sir. 
Upon your mistress ! — Emily, I hope 
He shall not go afoot. 

Emilia. That were a shame, sir, 

While I have horses. — Take your choice j and what 
You want at any time, let me but know it. 
If you serve faithfully, I dare assure you 
You'll find a loving mistress. 

Arcite. If I do not. 

Let me find that my father ever hated, — 
Disgrace and blows ! 



SCENE VI.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 411 

Theseus. Go, lead the way ; you've won it ; 60 

It shall be so ; you shall receive all dues 
Fit for the honour you have won ; 'twere wrong else. — 
Sister, beshrew my heart, you have a servant, 
That, if I were a woman, would be master ; 
But you are wise. 

Emilia, I hope too wise for that, sir. 

\_Flotirish. Exeunt. 



Scene VI. — Before the Prison. 

Enter Gaoler's Daughter. 

Daughter. Let all the dukes and all the devils roar. 
He is at liberty ! I've ventur'd for him ; 
And out I have brought him to a little wood 
x\ mile hence. I have sent him where a cedar, 
Higher than all the rest, spreads like a plane 
Fast by a brook ; and there he shall keep close, 
Till I provide him files and food, for yet 
His iron bracelets are not off. O Love, 
What a stout-hearted child thou art ! My father 
Durst better have endur'd cold iron than done it. 
I love him beyond love and beyond reason. 
Or wit, or safety. I have made him know it : 
I care not ; I am desperate. If the law 
Find me, and then condemn me for't, some wenches, 
Some honest-hearted maids, will sing my dirge. 
And tell to memory my death was noble. 
Dying almost a martyr. That way he takes, 
I purpose, is my way too ; sure he cannot 
Be so unmanly as to leave me here ! 



412 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT II. 

If he do, maids will not so easily 20 

Trust men again : and yet he has not thank'd me 

For what I have done ; no, not so much as kiss'd me ; 

And that, methinks, is not so well ; nor scarcely 

Could I persuade him to become a freeman. 

He made such scruples of the wrong he did 

To me and to my father. Yet, I hope. 

When he considers more, this love of mine 

Will take more root within him : let him do 

What he will with me, so he use me kindly ! 

For use me so he shall, or I'll proclaim him, 30 

And to his face, no man. I'll presently 

Provide him necessaries,^ and pack my clothes up. 

And where there is a patch of ground I'll venture, 

So he be with me ; by him, like a shadow, 

I'll ever dwell. Within this hour the whoo-bub^ 

Will be all o'er the prison ; I am then 

Kissing the man they look for. — Farewell, father ! 

Get many more such prisoners and such daughters, 

And shortly you may keep yourself. Now to him ! {^Exit 

1 Pronounced nessarles, as in Julius Ccesar, ii, i, 178. 

2 Hubbub. 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 413 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — A Foj-est. Co7'nets in Sundry Places. Noise 
and Ha/looi7tg, as of People a-Maying. 

Enter Arcite. 

Arcite. The duke has lost Hippolyta ; each took 
A several laund.^ This is a solemn rite 
They owe bloom'd May, and the Athenians pay it 
To the heart of ceremony. — O queen Emilia, 
Fresher than May, sweeter 
Than her gold buttons on the boughs, or all 
Th' enamell'd knacks^ o' the mead or garden ! yea. 
We challenge too the bank of any nymph. 
That makes the stream seem flowers ; thou, O jewel 
O' the wood, o' the world, hast likewise bless'd a place 10 
With thy sole presence ! In thy rumination 
That I, poor man, might eftsoons'^ come between. 
And chop'* on some cold thought ! — Thrice blessed chance, 
To drop on such a mistress, expectation 
Most guiltless on't ! Tell me, O lady Fortune — 
Next after Emily my sovereign — how far 
I may be proud. She takes strong note of me, 
Hath made me near her, and this beauteous morn, 

1 Lawn, glade; several, separate. 

2 Ornaments. 3 Soon after. 

4 " Exchange, make an exchange. Arcite means, Oh ! that I might, 
whilst thou art meditating, come between, soon after some cold or sober 
thought, and make an exchange, by changing those cold thoughts to 
thoughts of love ! " — Skeat. 



414 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act hi. 

The prim'st of all the year, presents me with 

A brace of horses ; two such steeds might well 20 

Be by a pair of kings back'd, in a field 

That their crowns' titles tried. Alas, alas, 

Poor cousin Palamon, poor prisoner ! thou 

So Httle dream'st upon my fortune, that 

Thou think'st thyself the happier thing, to be 

So near Emilia ! Me thou deem'st at Thebes, 

And therein wretched, although free ; but if 

Thou knew'st my mistress breath'd on me, and that 

I ear'd her language, liv'd in her eye, O coz. 

What passion would enclose thee ! 

Enter Palamon out of a l)ush ivith his shackles; he bends 
his fist at Arcite. 

Pala7non. Traitor kinsman ! 30 

Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signs 

Of prisonment were off me, and this hand 

But owner of a sword ! By all oaths in one, 

I, and the justice of my love, would make thee 

A confess'd traitor ! O thou most perfidious 

That ever gently look'd ! the void'st of honour 

That e'er bore gentle token ! falsest cousin 

That ever blood made kin ! call'st thou her thine ? 

I'll prove it in my shackles, with these hands 

Void of appointment,^ that thou liest, and art 40 

A very thief in love, a chaffy lord. 

Nor worth the name of villain ! Had I a sword, 

And these house-clogs away — 

Arcite. Dear cousin Palamon — 

Palamon. Cozener Arcite, give me language such 

1 Equipment for fighting. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 415 

As thou hast show'd me feat ! 

Arcite. Not finding in 

The circuit of my breast any gross stuff 
To form me hke your blazon, holds me to 
This gentleness of answer : 'tis in your passion 
That thus mistakes ; the which, to you being enemy, 
Cannot to me be kind. Honour and honesty 50 

I cherish and depend on, howsoe'er 
You skip them in me, and with them, fair coz, 
111 maintain my proceedings. Pray be pleas'd 
To show in generous terms your griefs, since that 
Your question's with your equal, who professes 
To clear his own way with the mind and sword 
Of a true gentleman. 

Palamon. That thou durst, Arcite ! 

Arcite. My coz, my coz, you have been well adv^rtis'd 
How much I dare ; you've seen me use my sword 
Against the advice of fear. Sure, of another 60 

You w^ould not hear me doubted, but your silence 
Should break out, though i' the sanctuary. 

Palamon. Sir, 

I've seen you move in such a place, which well 
Might justify your manhood ; you were call'd 
A good knight and a bold : but the whole week's not fair, 
If any day it rain. Their valiant temper 
Men lose when they incline to treachery ; 
And then they fight like compell'd bears, would fly 
Were they not tied. 

Arcite. Kinsman, you might as well ' 

Speak this, and act it in your glass, as to 70 

His ear which now disdains you. 

Palamon. Come up to me ! 



41 6 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT III. 

Quit me of these cold gyves/ give me a sword, 

Though it be rusty, and the charity 

Of one meal lend me ; come before me then, 

A good sword in thy hand, and do but say 

That Emily is thine, I will forgive 

The trespass thou hast done me, yea, my life, 

If then thou carry't ; and brave souls in shades, 

That have died manly, which will seek of me 

Some news from earth, they shall get none but this. So 

That thou art brave and noble. 

Arcite. Be content ; 

Again betake you to your hawthorn-house. 
With counsel of the night, I will be here 
With wholesome viands ; these impediments 
Will I file oif ; you shall have garments, and 
Perfumes to kill the smell o' the prison ; after. 
When you shall stretch yourself, and say but, "Arcite, 
I am in plight ! " there shall be at your choice 
Both sword and armour. 

Palamon. O you heavens, dares any 

So noble bear a guilty business ? None 90 

But only Arcite ; therefore none but Arcite 
In this kind is so bold. 

Arcite. Sweet Palamon — 

Palamon. I do embrace you, and your offer : for 
Your offer do't I only, sir ; your person. 
Without hypocrisy, I may not wish 
More than my sword's edge on't. \_IIorns winded within. 

Arcite. You hear the horns : 

Enter your musit,- lest this match between's 

1 Free me from these fetters. 

2 " The opening in a hedge through which a hare, or other beast of sport, 
is accustomed to pass." — Nares. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 417 

Be cross'd ere met. Give me your hand ; farewell ! 
I'll bring you every needful thing ; I pray you 
Take comfort, and be strong. 

Palanion. Pray hold your promise, 100 

And do the deed with a bent ^ brow. Most certain 
You love me not ; be rough with me, and pour 
This oil out of your language. By this air, 
I 'could for each word give a cuff, my stomach 
Not reconcil'd by reason ! 

Arcite. Plainly spoken ! 

Yet pardon me hard language : when I spur 
My horse, I chide him not ; content and anger 

\_Horns winded again. 
In me have but one face. — Hark, sir ! they call 
The scatter'd to the banquet ; you must guess 
I have an office there. 

Palamon. Sir, your attendance no 

Cannot please heaven ; and I know your office 
Unjustly is achiev'd. 

Arcite. I've a good title, 

I am persuaded : this question, sick between's. 
By bleeding must be cur'd. I am a suitor 
That to your sword you will bequeath this plea, 
And talk of it no more. 

Palamon. But this one word : 

You are going now to gaze upon my mistress ; 
For, note you, mine she is — 

Arcite. Nay, then — 

Palamon. Nay, pray you ! — 

You talk of feeding me to breed me strength : 
You are going now to look upon a sun 120 

1 Angry. 



41 8 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act III, 

That Strengthens what it looks on ; there you have 

A vantage o'er me ; but enjoy it till 

I may enforce my remedy. Farewell ! \_Exeiint} 



Scene II. — Another Part of the Forest. 
Enter Gaoler's Daughter. 

Daughter. He has mistook the brake I meant, is gone 
After his fancy. 'Tis now well-nigh morning ; 
No matter ! would it were perpetual night, 
And darkness lord o' the world ! — Hark ! 'tis a wolf; 
In me hath grief slain fear, and, but for one thing, 
I care for nothing, and that's Palamon. 
I reck not if the wolves would jaw me, so 
He had this file. What if I halloo'd for him ? 
I cannot halloo ; if I whoop'd, what then? 
If he not answer'd, I should call a wolf, 
And do him but that service. I have heard 
Strange howls this livelong night ; why may't not be 
They have made prey of him ? He has no weapons, 
He cannot run ; the jingling of his gyves 
Might call fell things to listen, who have in them 
A sense to know a man unarm'd, and can 
Smell where resistance is. I'll set it down 
He's torn to pieces ; they howl'd many together, 
And then they fed on him : so much for that ! 
Be bold to ring the bell ; how stand I then ? 
All's char'd ^ when he is gone. No, no, I he. 
My father's to be hang'd for his escape ; 

1 The critics agree in assigning this scene to Shakespeare. 

2 AH is dispatched : from this stem is derived chores. 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 419 

Myself to beg, if I priz'd life so much 

As to deny my act ; but that I would not, 

Should I try death by dozens ! — I am mop'd^ : 

Food took I none these two days — 

Sipp'd some water. I have not clos'd mine eyes, 

Save when my lids scour'd off their brine. Alas, 

Dissolve, my life ! let not my sense unsettle, 

Lest I should drown, or stab, or hang myself ! 30 

O state of nature, fail together in me. 

Since thy best props are warp'd ! — So ! which way now? 

The best way is the next way to a grave ; 

Each errant step beside is torment. Lo, 

The moon is down, the crickets chirp, the screech-owl 

Calls in the dawn ! all offices are done, 

Save what I fail in ; but the point is this, 

An end, and that is all ! ^ \_Exif. 



Scene III. — The Same Part of the Forest as in Scene I. 

Enter Arcite, with meat, wine, files, etc. 

Arcite. I should be near the place. — Ho, cousin Pala- 
mon ! 

Enter Palamon. 

Palainon. Arcite? 

Arcite. The same ; I've brought you food and files. 

1 Used up. 

2 This scene is usually assigned to Shakespeare, but Hickson remarks : 
" It is to this scene that we referred by anticipation as giving an instance of 
Shakespeare's judgment. It can hardly be said to explain any necessary 
circumstance ; . . . but it supplies the due gradation between a mind dis- 
eased and madness ; and in connection with another scene at which we 



420 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act iii. 

Come forth, and fear not ; here's no Theseus. 

Palainon. Nor none so honest, Arcite. 

Arcite. That's no matter ; 

We'll argue that hereafter. Come, take courage ; 
You shall not die thus beastly ; ^ here, sir, drink, 
I know you're faint ; then I'll talk further with you. 

Palaiiion. Arcite, thou might'st now poison me. 

Ai'cite. I might ; 

But I must fear you first. Sit down ; and, good now, 
No more of these vain parleys ! Let us not, lo 

Having our ancient reputation with us. 
Make talk for fools and cowards. To your health ! \_Drinks. 

Palamon. Do. 

Arcite. Pray, sit down then ; and let me entreat you, 

By all the honesty and honour in you, 
No mention of this woman ! 'twill disturb us ; 
We shall have time enough. 

Palamon. Well, sir, I'll pledge you. \_Drinks. 

Arcite. Drink a good hearty draught ; it breeds good 
blood, man. 
Do not you feel it thaw you ? 

Palai7ion. Stay ; I'll tell you 

After a draught or two more. 

shall shortly arrive, it displays a depth of insight into the psychological 
character of this state only exceeded by Shakespeare himself, in Lear. Let 
our readers observe in particular the unselfish anxiety for Palamon's safety, 
and her subsequent terror at her own disordered senses. The introduction 
of the popular notion that wild beasts ' have a sense to know a man 
unarm'd' is quite a Shakespearean illustration; and we do not know an 
instance of finer drawing than this of her imagination painting, as absolute 
reality, the subject of her first fear. From this conviction (of Palamon's 
death) we come naturally to the concluding hnes, beyond which the next 
step is madness." 

1 Unlike a human being, 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



421 



Arciie. Spare it not ; 

The duke has more, coz. Eat now. 

Palamon. Yes. 

Arcitc. I am glad 20 

You have so good a stomach. 

Pala7non. I am gladder 

I have so good meat to't. 

Arcite. Is't not mad lodging 

Here in the wild woods, cousin ? 

Palamon. Yes, for them 

That have wild consciences. 

Arcite. How tastes your victuals? 

Your hunger needs no sauce, I see. 

Palamon. Not much ; 

But if it did, yours is too tart, sweet cousin. 
What is this ? 

Arcite, Venison. 

Palamo7i. 'Tis a lusty meat. 

Give me more wine : here, Arcite, to the wenches 
We have known in our days ! The lord steward's daughter ; 
Do you remember her? 

Arcite. After you, coz. 30 

Palamon. She lov'd a black-hair'd man. 

Arcitc. She did so; well, sir? 

Palamon. And I have heard some call him Arcite ; and — 

Arcite. Out with it, faith ! 

Palamon. She met him in an arbour : 

What did she there, coz? 

Arcite. Well, the marshal's sister 

Had her share too, as I remember, cousin, 
Else there be tales abroad; you'll pledge her? 

Palamon. Yes. 



42 2 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act III. 

Arcite. A pretty brown wench 'tis ! There was a time 
When young men went a-hunting, and a wood, 
And a broad beech ; and thereby hangs a tale.^ — 
Heigh-ho ! 

Pala7non. For Emily, upon my hfe ! Fool, • 40 

Away with this strain'd mirth ! I say again. 
That sigh was breath 'd for Emily ! Base cousin, 
Dar'st thou break" first? 

Arcite. You are wide. 

Palamon. By heaven and earth, 

There's nothing in thee honest ! 

Arcite. Then I'll leave you ; 

You are a beast now. 

Palamon. As thou mak'st me, traitor. 

Arcite. There's all things needful, — files and shirts, and 
perfumes. 
I'll come again some two hours hence, and bring 
That that shall quiet all. 

Palamon. A sword and armour? 

Arcite. Fear me not. You are now too foul ; farewell ! 
Get off your trinkets ! you shall want nought. 

Palamon. Sirrah — 50 

Arcite. I'll hear no more ! \_Exit. 

Palamon. If he keep touch, he dies for't. \_Exit.^ 

1 Common Shakespearean phrase; cf. Merry Wives, i, 4, 159; As You 
Like It, ii, 7, 28 ; Taming of the Shrew, iv, i, 60. 

2 Break our agreement. 

3 " This is one of those scenes by the introduction of which Fletcher 
succeeded in spoiling a good play." — Littledale. "In most respects the 
scene is not very characteristic of either writer, but leans towards Fletcher ; 
and one argument for him might be drawn from an interchange of sarcasms 
between the two kinsmen, in which they retort on each other former amor- 
ous adventures : such a dialogue is quite like Fletcher's men of gayety ; and 



SCENE IV.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 423 

Scene IV. — Another Part of the Forest. 

Enter Gaoler's Daughter. 

Daughter. I'm very cold ; and all the stars are out too, 
The little stars, and all that look like aglets ^ : 
The sun has seen my folly. Palamon ! 
Alas, no, he's in heaven ! — Where am I now? — ■ 
Yonder's the sea, and there's a ship ; how't tumbles ! 
And there's a rock hes watching under water ; 
Now, now, it beats upon it ! now, now, now ! 
There's a leak sprung, a sound one ; how they cry ! 
Run her before the wind, you'll lose all else ! 
Up with a course or two, and tack about, boys ! 10 

Good night, good night ; y'are gone ! — I'm very hungry : 
Would I could find a fine frog ! he would tell me 
News from all parts of the world ; then would I make 
A carrack- of a cockle-shell, and sail 
By east and north-east to the King of pygmies,^ 
For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father. 
Twenty to one is truss'd^ up in a trice 
To-morrow morning ; I'll say never a word. 

needless degradation of his principal characters is a fault of which Shake- 
speare is not guilty." — Spalding. " The third scene, without any doubt, is by 
Fletcher. Arcite brings ' food and files' to Palamon ; and, after some patter 
of early reminiscences between them utterly out of character, they separate." 
— Hickson. 

1 Spangles. 

2 A ship of burden. 

3 " A fabulous people, said to be of the height oid^pygme (Trvy/oi^'), or 13 V 
inches, mentioned by Homer {Iliad, iii, 5) as dwelling on the shores of 
Ocean, and at times subject to attacks by cranes. Dwarfs have often been 
credited with supernatural powers, especially in Northern mythology." — 
Skeat. Cf. Much Ado, ii, i, 278. 

4 Pinioned like a fowl, hanged. 



424 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act hi. 

(Sings) For Fll cut viy green coat afoot above my knee ; 

And ril clip my yellow locks an inch below mine e'e. 
Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny. 21 

He' s^ buy 7?ie a white cut, forth for to ride, 
And I'll go seek him through the ivorld that is so 
wide. 

Hey, nonny, nonny, nonny. 
O for a prick now, like a nightingale/ 
To put my breast against ! I shall sleep like a top else. \_Exit? 



Scene V. — Another Part of the Fo?rst. 

Enter Gerrold,/^//^ Countrymen as morris-dancers, another 
as the Bsiv'mn,'^ fve Wenches, and a Taborer. 

Gerrold. Fie, fie ! 
What tediosity and disensanity 
Is here among ye ! Have my rudiments 
Been labour'd so long with ye, milk'd unto ye, 
And, by a figure, even the very plum-broth 
And marrow of my understanding laid upon ye, 
And do you still cry "where," and ''how," and "wherefore"? 

1 He shall. 

2 Poets frequently described the nightingale as leaning her breast against 
a thorn whilst singing. So in the Passionate Pilgrim, sect. 21; 

" Everything did banish moan, 
Save the nightingale alone; 
She, poor bird, as all forlorn, 
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn. 
And there sung the dolefull'st ditty." 

3 This scene is Fletcher's ; " there is some affectation of nautical language 
(why, Heaven only knows), and the rest is mere incoherent nonsense." 
— Hicks on. 

■* A person dressed like a baboon, introduced into a morris-dance. 



SCENE V.J THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 425 

You most coarse frieze capacities, ye jane^ judgments, 

Have I said " thus let be," and " there let be," 

And " then let be," and no man understand me? 10 

P>-oh Deuin, medius fidhts^ ye are all dunces ! 

For why, here stand I ; here the duke comes ; there are you, 

Close in the thicket ; the duke appears, I meet him. 

And unto him I utter learned things, 

And many figures ; he hears, and nods, and hums, 

And then cries " rare ! " and I go forward ; at length 

I fling my cap up ; mark there ! then do you. 

As once did Meleager and the boar," 

Break comely out before him, like true lovers, 

Cast yourselves in a body decently, 20 

And sweetly, by a figure, trace* and turn, boys ! 

ist Countryman. And sweetly we will do it, master 
G err old. 

2d Countryjnan. Draw up the company. Where's the 
taborer ? 

jd Coitntrynian. Why, Timothy ! 

Tabore?'. Here, my mad boys ; have at ye ! 

Gerrold. But I say, where's their women ? 

4th Country7?ian. Here's Friz and Maudlin. 

2d Countryiftan. And little Luce with the white legs, and 
bouncing Barbary. 

\st Coimtrymati. And freckled Nell, that never failed her 
master. 

1 Frieze is coarse woollen cloth ; Jane is twilled cotton cloth. 

2 "An old Latin oath, apparently short for tne dms Fidius adiuvet, may 
the divine Fidius help nie! \i fidius stands iox filius, then it means, may 
the divine son of Jupiter help me ! The reference, in that case, is most 
likely to the god Hercules." — Skeat. 

3 Meleager slew the boar infesting Calydon ; see Iliad, i.^, 527. 

4 Follow your proper track; referring to a dance. 



426 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act hi. 

Gerrold. Where be your ribands, maids ? Swim with your 
bodies, 
And carry it sweetly and deliverly ^ ; 
And now and then a favour- and a frisk ! 30 

Nell. Let us alone, sir. 

Gerrold. Where's the rest o' the music? 

jd Countryman. Dispers'd as you commanded. 

Gerrold. Couple, then, 

And see what's wanting. Where's the Bavian? — 
My friend, carry your tail without offence 
Or scandal to the ladies ; and be sure 
You tumble with audacity and manhood ; 
And when you bark, you do it with judgment. 

Bavian. Yes, sir. 

Ger?'old. Quousqiie tandem?^ Here is a woman wanting ! 

4t]i Countryman. We may go whistle ; all the fat's i' the 
fire ! 

Gerrold. We have, 40 

As learned authors utter, wash'd a tile ; ^ 
We have been fatuous, and labour'd vainly. 

2d Countryman. This is that scornful piece,^ that scurvy 
hilding,*'' 
That gave her promise faithfully she would 
Be here. Cicely the sempster's ' daughter ! 
The next gloves that I give her shall be dog-skin ; 
Nay, an she fail me once — You can tell, Areas, 

1 Nimbly ; clevet- is supposed to be derived from deliver. 

2 " Perhaps a love-knot made of the ribands mentioned." — A^^'a/. 
(Zi. favours in the modern cotillon. 

3 How long ? 

4 A Latin proverb occurring in Terence s Phormio, 1, 4, 9. 

5 Contemptuously, " creature." 

c A menial wretch ; still in use in Devonshire. 7 Old form of sempstress. 



SCENE v.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 427 

She swore, by wine and bread,^ she would not break. 

Gerrold. An eel and woman, 
A learned poet says, unless by the tail 50 

And with thy teeth thou hold, will either fail. 
In manners this was false position. 

1st Couni}-y7nan. A wildfire take her ! does she flinch 
now? 

jd Countryman. What 
Shall we determine, sir? 

Gej-rold, Nothing ; 

Our business is become a nulUty, 
Yea, and a woeful and a piteous nullity. 

4th Countryman. Now, when the credit of our town lay 
on it. 
Now to be frampal ^ ! 
Go thy ways ; I'll remember thee, I'll fit thee 1 

Enter Gaoler's Daughter, and sings. 

The George alow ^ came from the south 60 

From the coast of Barhary-a ; 
And there he met with brave gallants of war. 

By o?ie, by two, by three-a. 
Well haird, well haiPd, you Jolly gallants ! 

And whither now are you bound-a ? 
O, let me have your company 

. Till I come to the Sound-a ! 

1 The sacrament of the Eucharist. 

2 Peevish ; from the Welsh ffromi, to fume ; cf. Merry Wives, ii, 2, 94 : 

" She leads a very frampold life with him." 
* " Low down ; possibly referring to the appearance of a ship on the hori- 
zon." — Skeat. 



428 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act ill. 

Tliere was tJwee fools fell out about an howlet; 

The one said it was a7i owl, 

The other he said nay, 70 

The thij'd he said if was a hawk, 

And her bells wei'e cut away. 

jd Countryman. There's a dainty mad woman, master, 
Comes i' the nick,^ — as mad as a March hare ! 
If we can get her dance, we are made again ; 
I warrant her she'll do the rarest gambols ! 

1st Count7yman. A mad woman ! We are made, boys. 

Gerrold. And are you mad, good woman ? 

Daughtei'. I'd be sorry, else ; 

Give me your hand. 

Gerrold. Why? 

Daughter. I can tell your fortune : 

You are a fool. Tell ten.- I have pos'd him. Buz ! 80 

Friend, you must eat no white bread ; if you do. 
Your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we dance, ho ? 
I know you ; you're a tinker : sirrah tinker — 

Gerrold. Dii boni ! ^ 
A tinker, damsel? 

Daughter. Or a conjurer : 

Raise me a devil now, and let him play " 
Qui passa * o' the bells and bones ! 

Gerrold. Go, take her, 

And fluently persuade her to a peace.^ 

1 In the nick of time. 

2 " It was a trial of idiocy to make a person count his fingers." — Weber. 

3 " Good Gods ! " 

4 Italian, " here passes." The bells are those of the morris-dancers; the 
bones were used in rude music. 

5 To be still. 



SCENE v.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 429 

£/t> Opus exegi, quod nee lovis &a, nee ignis — ^ 
Strike up, and lead her in. 

2d CounU'yma?!. Come, lass, let's trip it ! 90 

Dauglitej'. I'll lead. 

jd Countryman. Do, do. [ Wind ho?'ns. 

Gerrold. Persuasively and cunningly ; away, boys ! 
I hear the horns ; give me some meditation. 
And mark your cue. — \^Exeunt all but Gerrold. 

Pallas inspire me 1 

Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippolyta, Emilia, Arcite, 
and train. 

Theseus. This way the stag took. 

Gerrold. Stay, and edify ! 

Theseus. What have we here ? 

Pirithous. Some country sport, upon my life, sir. 

Theseus. Well, sir, go forward ; we will edify. — 
Ladies, sit down ! we'll stay it. 

Gerrold. Thou doughty duke, all hail ! — All hail, sweet 
ladies ! 100 

Theseus. This is a cold beginning.- 

Gerrold. If you but favour, our country pastime made is. 
We are a few of those collected here. 
That ruder tongues distinguish villager ; 
And to say verity, and not to fable, 
We are a merry rout, or else a rabble. 
Or company, or, by a figure, chorus, 
That 'fore thy dignity will dance a morris.^ 
And I, that am the rectifier of all, 

1 Ovid, Metamorph. xv, 871, 2 A play on the word hail. 

3 For an account of the morris, see Prof. F. J. Child's Introduction to 
English Ballads, vol, 5- 



430 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act hi. 

By title Pedagogus, that let fall no 

The birch upon the breeches of the small ones, 

And humble with a ferula ^ the tall ones, 

Do here present this machine, or this frame; 

And, dainty duke, whose doughty dismal fame 

From Dis to Daedalus, from post to pillar. 

Is blown abroad, help me, thy poor well-vviller. 

And with thy twinkling eyes look right and straight 

Upon this mighty 7norr — of mickle weight — 

— is now comes in, which being glued together 

Makes ?Jiorris, and the cause that we came hither, 120 

The body of our sport, of no small study. 

I first appear, though rude, and raw, and muddy, 

To speak, before thy noble grace, this tenour ; - 

At whose great feet I offer up my penner. 

The next, the Lord of May and Lady bright, 

The Chambermaid and Servingman,^ by night 

1 The schoolmaster's " instrument of punishment. It was made of wood 
and shaped hke a battledore, but with the bat much diminished, so as to be 
adapted for administering a severe pat on the palm of the victim's hand." 

— Skeat. 

2 To this effect. 

3 " We have here a list of the characters in the morris-dance ; namely, 
the Lord of May, the Lady of May (also called Queen of May, or Maid 
Marian), the Chambermaid, the Servingman, the Host, the Hostess, etc. ; 
to M^hich should be added the Bavian or Tumbler, and the Clown or Jester, 
w^ho are seldom absent from such festivities. By putting together the 
account in this part of the scene and the preceding part, we may make out 
the list of the twelve principal characters, six of each sex, with the persons 
who took the parts : Male. i. Lord of May ; 2. Servingman ; 3. Host ; 4. 
Clown ; 5. Bavian ; 6. Taborer. Female. 7. Lady of May ; 8. Chamber- 
maid; 9. Hostess; 10. 11. 12. Dancers. The parts may be thus distributed 
among the actors : Male. i. 2. 3. 4. First, Second, Third, and Fourth Coun- 
trymen; 5. A fifth Countryman; 6. A man named Timothy. Female, 7. 
Friz; 8. Gaoler's Daughter, taking the place of Cicely (for it is clearly the 
Second Countryman's partner who failed to appear) ; 9. MaudUn; 10. Luce; 
II. Barbarv; 12. Nell." — Skeat. 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



431 



That seek out silent hanging ; then mine host 

And his fat spouse, that welcomes to their cost 

The galled traveller, and with a beck'ning 

Informs the tapster to inflame the reck'ning ; 130 

Ciun miiliis aliis that make a dance : 

Say ay, and all shall presently advance. 

Theseus. Ay, ay, by any means, dear domine ! 

Plrithoiis. Produce. 

Ger?'old. Intrate , filii ! Come forth, and foot it. 

Enter the four Countrymen, the Bavian, the Taborer, the 
five Wenches and the Gaoler's Daughter, tuith othei's of 
both sexes. They dance a morris. After which Gerrold 
speaks the Epilogue. 

Ladies, if we have been merry. 

And have pleas'd ye with a derry, 

And a derry, and a down. 

Say the schoolmaster's no clown. — 

Duke, if we have pleas'd thee too, 140 

And have done as good boys should do, 

Give us but a tree or twain 

For a Maypole, and again. 

Ere another year run out. 

We'll make thee laugh, and all this rout. 

Theseus. Take twenty, domine. — How does my sweet- 
heart ? 

Hippolyta. Never so pleas'd, sir. 

Etnilia. 'Twas an excellent dance ; and, for a preface, 
I never heard a better. 

Theseus. Schoolmaster, I thank you. — 

One see 'em all rewarded. 



432 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT III. 

Pirithous. And here's something 150 

To paint your pole withal. [ Groes 77ioney. 

Theseus. Now to our sports again ! 

Gerrold. May the stag thou hunt'st stand long, 
And thy dogs be swift and strong ! 
Come, we are all made ! — Dii Deaeque omnes ! 

[ Wind horns. 
Ye have danc'd rarely, wenches ! \^Ex€unt} 

Scene VI. — The safne Part of the Forest as in Scene III. 

Enter Palamon /;'<?;;/ the bush. 

Palamon. About this hour my cousin gave his faith 
To visit me again, and with him bring 
Two swords and two good armours ; if he fail, 
He's neither man or soldier. When he left me, 
I did not think a week could have restor'd 
My lost strength to me, I was grown so low 
And crest-fallen with my wants ; I thank thee, Arcite, 
Thou art yet a fair foe, and I feel myself. 
With this refreshing, able once again 

To out-dure danger. To delay it longer 10 

Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing, 
That I lay fatting like a swine, to fight. 
And not a soldier. Therefore this blest morning 
Shall be the last, and that sword he refuses. 
If it but hold, I kill him with ; 'tis justice : 
So, love and fortune for me ! — O, good morrow ! 

1 " Not only imitation, but the imitation of a young and inexperienced 
writer." — Hickson. Gerrold is " a personage who has the pedantry of 
Shakespeare's Holofernes, without one solitary spark of his humor." — 
Spalding. 



SCENE VI.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 433 

Entei- Arcite, with armours and swords. 

Arciie. Good morrow, noble kinsman ! 

Palamon. I have put you 

To too much pains, sir. 

Arcite. That too much, fair cousin. 

Is but a debt to honour, and my duty. 

Palamon. Would you were so in all, sir ! I could wish ye 
As kind a kinsman as you force me find 21 

A beneficial foe, that my embraces 
Might thank ye, not my blows. 

Arcite. I shall think either. 

Well done, a noble recompense. 

Palamon. Then I shall quit ^ you. 

Arcite. Defy me in these fair terms, and you show 
More than a mistress to me ; no more anger. 
As you love any thing that's honourable ! 
We were not bred to talk, man ; when we are arm'd, 
And both upon our guards, then let our fury. 
Like meeting of two tides,^ fly strongly from us ! 30 

And then to whom the birthright of this beauty 
Truly pertains — without upbraidings, scorns, 
Deipisings of our persons, and such poutings, 
Fitter for girls and schoolboys — will be seen. 
And quickly, yours or mine. Will't please your arm, sir? 
Or if you feel yourself not fitting yet. 
And furnish'd with your old strength, I'll stay, cousin, 
And every day discourse you into health, 

1 Requite. 

2 Spalding notes Fletcher's " want of distinctness in grasping images, and 
inability to see fully either their picturesque or their poetical relations " ; in 
illustration of which he quotes this passage and below: " When I saw you 
charge first," etc. 



434 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act hi. 

As I am spar'd : your person I am friends with, 

And I could wish I had not said I lov'd her, 40 

Though I had died ; but, loving such a lady, 

And justifying my love, I must not fly from't. 

Palamon. Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy. 
That no man but thy cousin's fit to kill thee. 
I'm well and lusty ; choose your arms. 

Arcite. Choose you, sir. 

Pala7non. Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it 
To make me spare thee? 

Aixite. If you think so, cousin, 

You are deceiv'd ; for, as I am a soldier, 
I will not spare you ! 

Palauion. That's well said. 

Arcite. You'll find it. 

Palamon. Then, as I am an honest man, and love 50 

With all the justice of affection, 
I'll pay thee soundly ! This I'll take. 

Arcite. That's mine then ; 

I'll arm you first. \_Proceeds to arm Palamon. 

Palamon. Do. Pray thee, tell me, cousin. 

Where gott'st thou this good armour? 

Arcite. 'Tis the duke's ; 

And, to say true, I stole it. — Do I pinch you ? 

Palamon. No. 

Arcite. Is't not too heavy? 

Palamon. I have worn a lighter ; 

But I shall make it serve. 

Arcite. I'll buckle't close. 

Palamon. By any means. 

Arcite. You care not for a grand-guard ^ ? 

1 A piece of defensive armour for the breast, worn generally on horse- 
back. 



SCENE VI.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. ^^c 

Palanion. No, no ; we'll use no horses ; I perceive 60 

You'd fain be at that fight. 

Arcite. I am indifferent. 

Palamon. Faith, so am I. Good cousin, thrust the buckle 
Through far enough. 

Arcite. I warrant you. 

Palai7ion. My casque now, 

Arcite. Will you fight bare-arm'd? 

Palamon. We shall be the nimbler. 

Arcite. But use your gauntlets though : those are o' the 
least ; 
Prithee take mine, good cousin. 

Palamon. Thank you, Arcite, 

How do I look? am I fallen much away? 

Ai'cite. Faith, very little ; love has us'd you kindly. 

Palamon. I'll warrant thee I'll strike home. 

Arcite. Do, and spare not ! 

I'll give you cause, sweet cousin. 

Palamon {arming A.rcyy'e). Now to you, sir. 70 

Methinks this armour's very like that, Arcite, 
Thou wor'st that day the three kings fell, but lighter. 

Arcite. That was a very good one ; and that day, 
I well remember, you outdid me, cousin. 
I never saw such valour ; when you charg'd 
Upon the left wing of the enemy, 
I spurr'd hard to come up, and under me 
I had a right good horse. 

Palamon. You had indeed ; 

A bright bay, I remember. 

Arcite. Yes. But all 

Was vainly labour' d in me ; you outwent me, 80 

Nor could my wishes reach you : yet a Httle 



436 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act III. 

I did by imitation. 

Palamon. More by virtue^ ; 

You are modest, cousin. 

Arcite. When I saw you charge first, 

Methought I heard a dreadful clap of thunder 
Break from the troop. 

Palamon. But still before that flew 

The lightning of your valour. Stay a little ! 
Is not this piece too strait '■ ? 

Arcite. No, no ; 'tis well. 

Palamon. I would have nothing hurt thee but my sword ; 
A bruise would be dishonour. 

Aj'cite. Now I am perfect. 

Palamon. Stand off then ! 

Arcite. Take my sword ; I hold ^ it better. 

Palamon. I thank ye, no ; keep it, your hfe Hes on it. 91 
Here's one, if it but hold, I ask no more 
For all my hopes. My cause and honour guard me ! 

Arcite. And me my love ! Is there aught else to say? 

[ They bow several 7vays ; then advance and stand. 

Palanioji. This only, and no more : thou art mine aunt's 
son. 
And that blood we desire to shed is mutual ; 
In me thine, and in thee mine : my sword 
Is in my hand, and, if thou killest me. 
The gods and I forgive thee. If there be 
A place prepar'd for those that sleep in honour, 100 

I wish his weary soul that falls may win it. 
Fight bravely, cousin ; give me thy noble hand. 

Arcite. Here, Palamon ; this hand shall never more 
Come near thee with such friendship. 

1 Valour. 2 Tight. 3 Esteem. 



SCENE VI.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 437 

Palamon. I commend thee. 

Arcite. If I fall, curse me, and say I was a coward ; 
For none but such dare die in these just trials.^ 
Once more farewell, my cousin ! 

Palamon. Farewell, Arcite ! 

\_They fight. Horns within ; they stand. 

Arcite. Lo, cousin, lo ! our folly has undone us ! 

Palamon. Why? 

Arcite. This is the duke, a-hunting as I told you; no 

If we be found, we are wretched. O, retire, 
For honour's sake and safety, presently 
Into your bush again, sir ! We shall find 
Too many hours to die in. Gentle cousin. 
If you be seen, you perish instantly. 
For breaking prison ; and I, if you reveal me, 
For my contempt : then all the world will scorn us, 
And say we had a noble difference, 
But base disposers of it. 

Palamon. No, no, cousin j 

I will no more be hidden, nor put off 120 

This great adventure to a second trial. 
I know your cunning, and I know your cause. 
He that faints now, shame take him ! Put thyself 
Upon thy present guard — 

Arcite. You are not mad? 

Palamon. Or I will make the advantage of this hour 
Mine own ; and what to come shall threaten me, 
I fear less than my fortune. Know, weak cousin, 

1 " Our scene lies rather in the land of knight-errantry than of Athens ; 
our authors follow Chaucer, and dress their heroes after the manners of his 
age, when trials by the sword were thought just, and the conquered always 
supposed guilty and held infamous." — Seward. 



438 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT III. 

I love Emilia ; and in that I'll bury 
Thee, and all crosses else. 

Af'cite. Then come what can come, 

Thou shalt know, Palamon, I dare as well 130 

Die, as discourse or sleep ; only this fears ^ me, 
The law will have the honour of our ends. 
Have at thy life ! 

Palamon, Look to thine own well, Arcite ! 

{They fight again. Horns. 

E?iter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilm, Pirithous, and h-ain. 

Theseus. What ignorant and mad-malicious traitors 
Are you, that 'gainst the tenour of my laws, 
Are making battle thus, like knights appointed, 
Without my leave, and officers of arms ? 
By Castor, both shall die ! 

Palamon. Hold thy word, Theseus ! 

We are certainly both traitors, both despisers 
Of thee and of thy goodness : I am Palamon, 140 

That cannot love thee, he that broke thy prison ; 
Think well what that deserves ! and this is Arcite ; 
A bolder traitor never trod thy ground, 
A falser ne'er seem'd friend : this is the man 
Was begg'd and banish'd ; this is he contemns thee. 
And what thou dar'st do ; and in this disguise, 
Against thine own edict, follows thy sister. 
That fortunate bright star, the fair Emilia — 
Whose servant, if there be a right in seeing, 
And first bequeathing of the soul to, justly 150 

I am — and, which is more, dares think her his ! 
This treachery, like a most trusty lover, 

1 Friglitens. 



SCENE VL] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 439 

I call'd him now to answer. If thou beest, 

As thou art spoken, great and virtuous, 

The true decider of all injuries. 

Say, " Fight again ! " and thou shalt see me, Theseus, 

Do such a justice thou thyself wilt envy; 

Then take my life ! I'll woo thee to't. 

Pi7'ithous. O heaven, 

What more than man is this ! 

Theseus. I've sworn. 

Arcite. We seek not 

Thy breath of mercy, Theseus ! 'Tis to me 160 

A thing as soon ^ to die as thee to say it, 
And no more mov'd.'^ Where this man calls me traitor, 
Let me say thus much : if in love be treason, 
In service of so excellent a beauty — 
As I love most, and in that faith will perish, 
As I have brought my life here to confirm it, 
As I have serv'd her truest, worthiest. 
As I dare kill this cousin that denies it — 
So let me be most traitor, and ye please me. 
For scorning thy edict, duke, ask that lady, 170 

Why she is fair, and why her eyes command me 
Stay "here to love her? and if she say traitor, 
I am a villain fit to lie unburied. 

Pdlamon. Thou shalt have pity of us both, O Theseus, 
If unto neither thou show mercy ; stop, 
As thou art just, thy noble ear against us ; 
As thou art vaHant, for thy cousin's^ soul, 

1 Easy. 

2 " And I am no more moved than thou wouldst be in giving the order." 
— Skeat. 

2 Hercules. 



440 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT III. 

Whose twelve strong labours crown his memory, 

Let's die together, at one instant, duke ! 

Only a Httle let him fall before me, i8o 

That I may tell my soul he shall not have her. 

Theseus. I grant your wish ; for, to say true, your cousin 
Has ten times more oifended, for I gave him 
More mercy than you found, sir, your offences 
Being no more than his. — None here speak for 'em ! 
For ere the sun set, both shall sleep for ever. 

Hippolyta. Alas, the pity ! now or never, sister, 
Speak, not to be denied ; that face of yours 
Will bear the curses else of after ages 
For these lost cousins. 

Emi/ia. In my face, dear sister, 190 

I find no anger to 'em, nor no ruin ; 
The misadventure of their own eyes kill 'em : 
Yet that I will be woman and have pity, 
My knees shall grow to the ground but I'll get mercy. 
Help me, dear sister ! in a deed so virtuous 
The powers of all women will be with us. — 
Most royal brother — 

Hippolyta. Sir, by our tie of marriage — 

Emilia. By your own spotless honour — 

Hippolyta. By that faith. 

That fair hand, and that honest heart you gave me — 

Emilia. By that you would have pity in another, 200 

By your own virtues infinite — 

Hippolyta. By valour. 

By all the chaste nights I have ever pleas'd you — 

Theseus. These are strange conjurings ! 

Pirithous. Nay, then, I'll in too ! — 

By all our friendship, sir, by all our dangers. 



SCENE VI.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 44 1 

By all you love most, — wars, and this sweet lady — 

Emilia. By that you would have trembled to deny 
A blushing maid — 

Hippo lyta. By your own eyes, by strength, 

In which you swore I went beyond all women. 
Almost all men, and yet I yielded, Theseus — 

Pirithoiis. To crown all this, by your most noble soul, 210 
Which cannot want due mercy, I beg first ! 

Hippolyta. Next hear my prayers ! 

Emilia. Last, let me entreat, sir ! 

Pirithous. For mercy ! 

Hippolyta. Mercy ! 

Ejuilia. Mercy on these princes ! 

Theseus. Ye make my faith reel ; say I felt 
Compassion to 'em both, how would you place it ? 

Emilia. Upon their lives ; but with their banishments. 

Theseus. You are a right ^ woman, sister ! you have pity, 
But want the understanding where to use it. 
If you desire their lives, invent a way 

Safer than banishment. Can these two live, 220 

And have the agony of love about 'em. 
And not kill one another? Every day 
They'd fight about you, hourly bring your honour 
In public question with their swords. Be wise then. 
And here forget 'em ; it concerns your credit. 
And my oath equally : I have said, they die ! 
Better they fall by the law than one another. 
Bow - not my honour. 

Emilia. O my noble brother. 

That oath was rashly made, and in your anger ; 
Your reason will not hold it : if such vows 230 

i Very. 2 Abase not. 



442 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT III. 

Stand for express will, all the world must perish. 
Beside, I have another oath 'gainst yours, 
Of more authority, I'm sure more love ; 
Not made in passion neither, but good heed. 

Theseus. What is it, sister? 

Pirithous. Urge it home, brave lady ! 

Emilia. That you would ne'er deny me anything 
Fit for my modest suit and your free granting. 
I tie you to your word now ; if ye fail in't. 
Think how you maim your honour ; 

For now I am set a-begging, sir, I am deaf 240 

To all but your compassion. How their lives 
Might breed the ruin of my name's opinion ! ^ 
Shall any thing that loves me perish for me? 
That were a cruel wisdom ; do men proin^ 
The straight young boughs that blush with thousand blos- 
soms. 
Because they may be rotten? O duke Theseus, 
The goodly mothers that have groan'd for these, 
And all the longing maids that ever lov'd, 
If your vow stand, shall curse me and my beauty. 
And, in their funeral songs for these two cousins, 250 

Despise my cruelty and cry woe worth me,'^ 
Till I am nothing but the scorn of women. 
For heaven's sake save their lives, and banish 'em ! 

Theseus. On what conditions ? 

Emilia. Swear 'em never more 

To make me their contention, or to know me, 
To tread upon thy dukedom, and to be. 
Wherever they shall travel, ever strangers 
To one another. 

1 My reputation. 2 Prune. ^ Woe be to me. 



SCENE VI.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 443 

Palamoji, I'll be cut a-pieces 
Before I take this oath ! Forget I love her? 

all ye gods, despise me then ! Thy banishment 260 

1 not mislike, so we may fairly carry 

Our swords and cause along ; else never trifle, 
But take our lives, duke ! I must love, and will ; 
And for that love must and dare kill this cousin, 
On any piece the earth has. 

Theseus. Will you, Arcite, 

Take these conditions? 

Palamon. He's a villain, then ! 

Firithoiis. These are men ! 

Arcite. No, never, duke ; 'tis worse to me than begging. 
To take my life so basely, Though I think 
I never shall enjoy her, yet I'll preserve 270 

The honour of affection, and die for her, 
Make death a devil. ^ 

Theseus. What may be done ? for now I feel compassion. 

Pirithous. Let it not fall again, sir ! 

Theseus. Say, Emilia, 

If one of them were dead, as one must, are you 
Content to take the other to your husband ? 
They cannot both enjoy you. They are princes 
As goodly as your own eyes, and as noble 
As ever fame yet spoke of : look upon 'em, 
And if you can love, end this difference ; 280 

I give consent. — Are you content, too, princes ? 

Both. With all our souls. 

Theseus. He that she refuses 

Must die then. 

Both. Any death thou canst invent, duke. 

1 " Though you should make death as formidable as a devil." — Littledale. 



444 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act ill. 

Pala77ion. If I fall from that mouth, I fall with favour, 
And lovers yet unborn shall bless my ashes. 

Arcite. If she refuse me, yet my grave will wed me, 
And soldiers sing my epitaph. 

Theseus. Make choice then. 

Emilia. I cannot, sir ; they are both too excellent : 
For me, a hair shall never fall of these men. 

Hippolyta. What will become of 'em ? 

Theseus. Thus I ordain it : 

And, by mine honour, once again it stands, 291 

Or both shall die ! — You shall both to your country ; 
And each, within this month, accompanied 
With three fair knights, appear again in this place. 
In \vhich I'll plant a pyramid : and w^hether. 
Before us that are here, can force his cousin 
By fair and knightly strength to touch the pillar. 
He shall enjoy her ; the other lose his head. 
And all his friends ; ^ nor shall he grudge to fall. 
Nor think he dies with interest in this lady. 300 

Will this content ye ? 

Palamon. Yes. — Here, cousin Arcite, 

I am friends again till that hour. 

1 " Some readers hav'^e expressed surprise at the apparently strange doom 
of Theseus, in decreeing death not only to the principal, but to ' all his 
friends,' if worsted in the combat. Chaucer does not, it is true, go so far as 
this ; but it was quite in accordance with the spirit of the age even in 
Fletcher's time. Seward's note on the subject is much to the purpose: 
' As to the probability of their procuring each three seconds upon such odd 
terms, it may shock us to suppose any such gallant idiots ; but even so low 
as our authors' age it was reckoned cowardice to refuse any man, even a 
stranger, to be a second in almost any duel whatever, of which there is a 
most inimitable burlesque in The Little French Lawyer. Mankind were 
mad after knight-errantry ; and the reader must catch a little of the spirit 
himself, or he'll lose a great part of the beauties of this play ; he must kindle 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 445 

Arcite. I embrace ye. 

Theseus. iVre you content, sister? 

Emilia. Yes ; I must, sir, 

Else both miscarry. 

Theseus. Come, shake hands again then ; 

And take heed, as you are gentlemen, this quarrel 
Sleep till the hour prefix'd, and hold your course. 

Palamon. We dare not fail thee, Theseus. 

Theseus. Come, I'll give ye 

Now usage hke to princes and to friends. 
When ye return, who wins, I'll settle here ; 
Who loses, yet I'll weep upon his bier. \^Exeunt} 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Athens. A Room in the Prison. 

Enter Gaoler and First Friend. 

Gaoler. Hear you no more? Was nothing said of me 
Concerning the escape of Palamon? 
Good sir, remember ! 

1st Friend. Nothing that I heard ; 

with the flames of military glory, think life a small stake to hazard in such a 
combat, and death desirable to the conquered as a refuge from shame.' In 
Beaumont and Fletcher's play of The Lover s Progress, ii, 3, the seconds 
fight as well as the principals. Perhaps the most striking instance is 
afforded by the ferocious duel fought in Kensington Gardens on the 15th 
of November, 1712; in which not only the principals, Lord Mohun and 
the Duke of Hamilton, were both killed, but the seconds fought with fierce 
hatred, though interrupted before either of them was slain." — Skeat. 

1 " This scene is a spirited and excellent one ; but its tone is Fletcher's, 
not Shakespeare's." — Spalding. 



446 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT IV. 

For I came home before the biismess 

Was fully ended : yet I might perceive, 

Ere I departed, a great likelihood 

Of both their pardons ; for Hippolyta 

And fair-eyed Emily upon their knees 

Begg'd with such handsome pity, that the duke 

Methought stood staggering whether he should follow lo 

His rash oath or the sweet compassion 

Of those two ladies ; and to second them. 

That truly noble prince Pirithous, 

Half his own heart, set in too, that I hope 

All shall be well : neither ^eard I one question 

Of your name or his scape. 

Gaoler. Pray heaven, it hold so ! 

Ejiter Second Friend. 

2d Friend. Be of good comfort, man ! I bring you news. 
Good news. 

Gaoler. They're welcome. 

2d Friend. Palamon has clear'd you 

And got your pardon, and discover'd how 
And by whose means he scap'd, which was your daughter's, 
Whose pardon is procur'd too ; and the prisoner — 21 

Not to be held ungrateful to her goodness — 
Has given a sum of money to her marriage, 
A large one, I'll assure you. 

Gaoler. Ye 're a good man 

And ever bring good news. 

1st Friend. How was it ended ? 

2d Friend. Why, as it should be ; they that never begg'd 
But they prevail'd had their suits fairly granted ; 
The prisoners have their lives. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 447 

1st Friend. I knew't would be so. 

2d Friend. But there be new conditions, which you'll hear of 
At better time. 

Gaoler. I hope they are good. 

2d Friend. They're honourable ; 30 

How good they'll prove, I know not. 

1st Friend. 'Twill be known. 

Enter Wooer. 

Wooer. Alas, sir, where's your daughter ? 

Gaoler. Why do you ask? 

Wooer. O, sir, when did you see her? 

2d Friend. How he looks ! 

Gaoler. This morning. 

Wooer. Was she well? was she in health, sir? 

Where did she sleep? 

1st Friend. These are strange questions. 

Gaoler. I do not think she was very well ; for, now 
You make me mind her, but this very day 
I ask'd her questions, and she answer'd me 
So far from what she was, so childishly, 
So sillily, as if she were a fool, 40 

An innocent ^ ; and I was very angry. 
But what of her, sir? 

Wooer. Nothing but my pity ; 

But you must know it, and as good by me 
As by another that less loves her. 

Gaoler. Well, sir? 

I St Friend. Not right? 

2d Friend. Not well ? 

Wooer. No, sir, not well ; 

*Tis too true, she is mad. 

1 Idiot. 



448 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act iv. 

1st Friend. It cannot be. 

Wooer. Believe, you'll find it so. 

Gaoler. I half suspected 

What you have told me ; the gods comfort her ! 
Either this was her love to Palamon, y 

Or fear of my miscarrying on his scape, 50 

Or both. 

Wooer. 'Tis likely. 

Gaoler. But why all this haste, sir ? 

Wooer. I'll tell you quickly. As I late was angling 
In the great lake that lies behind the palace. 
From the far shore, thick-set with reeds and sedges, 
As patiently I was attending sport, 
I heard a voice, a shrill one, and attentive 
I gave my ear ; when I might well perceive 
'Twas one that sung, and, by the smallness of it, . 

A boy or woman.^ I then left my angle 
To his own skill, came near, but yet perceiv'd not 60 

Who made the sound, the rushes and the reeds 
Had so encompass'd it. I laid me down 
And listen'd to the words she sung ; for then, 
Through a small glade cut by the fishermen, 
I saw it was your daughter. 

Gaoler. Pray go on, sir ! 

Wooer. She sung much, but no sense ; only I heard her 
Repeat this often : " Palainon is gone, 
Is gone to the wood to gather mulberries ; 
I'll find him out to-morrow." 

1st Friend. Pretty soul ! 

Wooer. ^' His shackles will betray him, he'll be taken ; yo 
And what shall I do then? I'll bring a bevy/ 

1 Cf. Hamlet, iv, 7. 2 Company, from the Italian, beva, drinking-party. 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



449 



A hundred black-eyed maids that love as I do, 

With chaplets on their heads of daffodillies/ 

With cherry lips, and cheeks of damask roses, 

And all we'll dance an antic 'fore the duke. 

And beg his pardon." Then she talk'd of you, sir ; 

That you must lose your head to-morrow morning, 

And she must gather flowers to bury you. 

And see the house made handsome. Then she sung 

Nothing but " Willow, willow, willow " ; ^ and between 80 

Ever was, " Palamon, fair Palamon ! " 

And " Palamon was a tall young man ! " The place 

Was knee- deep where she sat ; her careless tresses 

A wreath of bulrush rounded ; about her stuck 

Thousand fresh water- flowers of several colours; 

That methought she appear'd hke the fair nymph 

That feeds the lake with waters, or as Iris 

Newly dropt down from heaven. Rings she made 

Of rushes that grew by,'' and to 'em spoke 

The prettiest posies,^ — ''Thus our true love's tied," 90 

'• This you may loose, not me," and many a one ; 

And then she wept, and sung again, and sigh'd. 

And with the same breath smil'd and kiss'd her hand. 

2d Friend. Alas, what pity 'tis ! 

Wooe7\ I made in to her ; 

She saw me, and straight sought the flood ; I sav'd her, 
And set her safe to land ; when presently 
She slipt away, and to the city made 
With such a cry and swiftness that, believe me, 
She left me far behind her. Three or four 
I saw from far off cross her, one of 'em 100 

1 Dafifodils, corrupted from asphodel. 2 Cf. Othello, iv, 3. 

3 Peasants made rush rings in celebrating mock marriages, ■* Mottoes. 



^50 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act iv. 

I knew to be your brother ; where she stay'd, 

And fell, scarce to be got away : I left them with her, 

And hither came to tell you. Here they are ! 

Enter Gaoler's Brother, Daughter, and othe7's. 

Daughter (sings) . May you never mo7'e enjoy the light, 
etc. 
Is not this a fine song? 

Brother. O, a very fine one ! 

Daughter. I can sing twenty more. 

Brother. I think you can. 

Daughter. Yes, truly can I ; I can sing " The Broom," 
And " Bonny Robin." ^ Are not you a tailor? 

Brother. Yes. 

Daughter. Where's my wedding-gown ? 

Brother. I'll bring it to-morrow. 

Daughter. Do, very rarely^; I must be abroad else, no 
To call the maids, and pay the minstrels. 

(Sings) O fair, O sweet, etc. 

Brother. You must even take it patiently. 

Gaoler. 'Tis true. 

Daughter. Good even, good men ! Pray did you ever 
hear 
Of one young Palamon ? 

Gaoler. Yes, wench, we know him. 

Daughter. Is't not a fine young gentleman ? 

Gaoler. 'Tis love ! 

Brother. By no means cross her ; she is then distemper'd 
Far worse than now she shows. 

1st Friejid. Yes, he's a fine man. 

Daughter. O, is he so? You have a sister? 

1 Popular old songs. 2 Early. 



% 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSxMExN. 45 1 

1st Friend. Yes. 

Daughter. But she shall never have him, tell her so, 120 
For a trick that I know ; y' had best look to her, 
For if she see him once, she's gone, she's done 
And undone in an hour. All the young maids 
Of our town are in love with him ; but I laugh at 'em, 
And let 'em all alone : is't not a wise course ? 

1st Ff'iend. Yes. 

Daughter. They come from all parts of the dukedom to 
him ; 
ril warrant ye — ■" 

Gaoler. She's lost. 

Past all cure ! 

Brother. Heaven forbid, man ! 

Daughter. Come hither ; you're a wise man. 

1st Friend. Does she know him? 130 

2d Frie7id. No ; would she did ! 

Daughter. You're master of a ship? 

Gaoler. Yes. 

Daughter. Where's your compass ? 

Gaoler. Here. 

Daughter. Set it to the north ; 

And now direct your course to the wood, where Palamon 
Lies longing for me ; for the tackling 
Let me alone : come, weigh, my hearts, cheerly ! ^ 

All. Owgh, owgh, owgh ! 'tis up, the wind is fair ; 
Top the bowling ; ^ out with the mainsail ! 
Where's your whistle, master? 

Brother. Let's get her in. 

Gaoler. Up to the top, boy ! 

Brother. Where's the pilot? 

1 Weigh anchor cheerily. 2 Tighten the bowline. 



452 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act IV. 

1st F fiend. Here. 

Daughte?'. What kenn'st ^ thou ? 

2d Friend. A fair wood. 140 

Daughter. Bear for it, master ; tack about ! 
(Sings) When Cynthia with her borrowed light, etc. 

\^Exeunt? 



Scene II. — Athens. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Emilia, with two pictures. 

f 

Emilia. Yet I may bind those wounds up, that must open 
And bleed to death for my sake else. I'll choose. 
And end their strife ; two such young handsome men 
Shall never fall for me : their weeping mothers, 
Following the dead-cold ashes of their sons. 
Shall never curse my cruelty. Good heaven. 
What a sweet face has Arcite ! If wise Nature, 
With all her best endowments, all those beauties 
She sows into the births of noble bodies, 
Were here a mortal woman, and had in her 
The coy denials of young maids, yet doubtless 
She would run mad for this man. What an eye, 
Of what a fiery sparkle and quick sweetness, 



I 



1 Descry. 

2 " The fourth act may safely be pronounced wholly Fletcher's. All of it, 
except one scene, is taken up by the episodical adventures of the Gaoler's 
Daughter ; and, while much of it is poetical, it wants the force and origin- 
ality, and, indeed, all the prominent features of Shakespeare's manner, 
either of thought, illustration, or expression." — Spalding. " The description 
in this scene has a certain resemblance to the circumstances of the death of 
Ophelia, and was probably written with that scene in view. It has no refer- 
ence whatever to the character of the Gaoler's Daughter, and it is the only 
circumstance in the whole play common to her and to Ophelia." — Hickson, 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 453 

Has this young prince ! here Love himself sits smiling ; 

Just such another wanton Ganymede ^ 

Set Jove afire with, and enforc'd the god 

Snatch up the goodly boy, and set him by him, 

A shining constellation. What a brow, 

Of what a spacious majesty, he carries, 

Arch'd like the great-eyed Juno's, but far sweeter, 20 

Smoother than Pelops' shoulder ! ^ Fame and Honour, 

Methinks, from hence, as from a promontory 

Pointed in heaven, should clap their wings, and sing 

To all the under-world the loves and fights 

Of gods and such men near 'em. Palamon 

Is but his foil ; to him, a mere dull shadow ; 

He's swarth and meagre, of an eye as heavy 

As if he had lost his mother ; a still temper, 

No stirring in him, no alacrity ; 

Of all this sprightly sharpness, not a smile. — 30 

Yet these that we count errors, may become him ; 

Narcissus was a sad boy, but a heavenly. 

O, who can find the bent of woman's fancy ? 

I am a fool, my reason is lost in me ; 

I have no choice, and I have lied so lewdly 

1 The constellation Aquarius was identified with Ganymede. 

2 " Tantalus, the favourite of the gods, once invited them to a repast, and 
on that occasion killed his own son Pelops, and having boiled him, set the 
flesh before them that they might eat it. But the immortal gods, knowing 
what it was, did not touch it; Demeter alone, being absorbed by grief for 
her lost daughter, consumed the shoulder of Pelops. Hereupon the gods 
ordered Hermes to put the limbs of Pelops into a cauldron and 
thereby restore him to life. When the process was over, Clotho took 
him out of the cauldron, and as the shoulder consumed by Demeter 
was wanting, the goddess supplied its place by one made of ivory; his de- 
scendants (the Pelopidae) as a mark of their origin, were believed to have 
one shoulder d!J white as ivory." — Smith's Classical Diet. 



454 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act iv. 

That women ought to beat me. — On my knees 

I ask thy pardon, Palamon ! Thou art alone, 

And only beautiful ; and these the eyes, 

These the bright lamps of beauty, that command 

And threaten Love, and what young maid dare cross 'em ? 

What a bold gravity, and yet inviting, 41 

Has this brown manly face ! O Love, this only 

From this hour is complexion. Lie there, Arcite ! 

Thou art a changeling to him, a mere gipsy. 

And this the noble body. I am sotted, 

Utterly lost ! my virgin's faith has fled me ! 

For if my brother but e'en now had ask'd me 

Whether ^ I lov'd, I had run mad for Arcite ; 

Now if my sister, more for Palamon. — . 

Stand both together ! — Now come, ask me, brother ; — 50 1 

Alas, I know not ! — Ask me now, sweet sister ; — ■ 

I may go look ! — What a mere child is fancy. 

That, having two fair gawds of equal sweetness, 

Cannot distinguish, but must cry for both ! — 

Enter a Gentleman. 

How now, sir? 

Gentleman. From the noble duke your brother. 
Madam, I bring you news : the knights are come ! 

Emilia. To end the quarrel? 

Gentleman. Yes. 

Emilia. Would I might end first ! 

What sins have I committed, chaste Diana, 
That my unspotted youth must now be soil'd 
With blood of princes ? and my chastity 60 

Be made the altar, where the lives of lovers — 

1 Which of the two. 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 455 

Two greater and two better never yet 
Made mothers joy — must be the sacrifice 
To my unhappy beauty? 

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, and Attendants. 

Theseus. Bring 'em in 

Quickly, by any means ! I long to see 'em. — 
Your two contending lovers are return'd. 
And with them their fair knights ; no#, my fair sister, 
You must love one of them. 

Emilia. I had rather both, 

So neither for my sake should fall untimely. 

Theseus. Who saw 'em? 

Pirithous. I awhile. 

Gentleman. And I. *]o 

Enter Messenger. 

Theseus. From whence come you, sir? 

Messenger. From the knights. 

Theseus. Pray speak. 

You that have seen them, what they are. 

Messenger. I will, sir. 

And truly what I think. Six braver spirits 
Than these they have brought — if we judge by the outside — 
I never saw nor read of. He that stands 
In the first place with Arcite, by his seeming 
Should be a stout man, by his face a prince, — 
His very looks so say him ; his complexion 
Nearer a brown than black ; stern, and yet noble. 
Which shows him hardy, fearless, proud of dangers ; 80 

The circles of his eyes show fire within him. 
And as a heated lion, so he looks ; 



456 THE TWO NOBLE KIXSMExN. [act iv. 

His hair hangs long behind him, black and shining 
Like ravens' wings ; his shoulders broad and strong ; 
Arm'd long and round : ^ and on his thigh a sword 
Hung by a curious baldrick/ when he frowns 
To seal his will with ; better, o' my conscience. 
Was never soldier's friend. 

Theseus. Thou hast well describ'd him. 

Pirithous. Yet a great deal short, 

Methinks, of him that% first with Palamon. 90 

Theseus. Pray speak him, friend. 

Pi?'ithous. I guess he is a prince too, 

And, if it may be, greater ; for his show 
Has all the ornament of honour in't. 
He's somewhat bigger than the knight he spoke of, 
But of a face far sweeter ; his complexion 
Is, as a ripe grape, ruddy ; he has felt, 
Without doubt, what he fights for, and so apter 
To make this cause his own ; in's face appears 
All the fair hopes of what he undertakes ; 
And when he's angry, then a settled valour, 100 

Not tainted with extremes, runs through his body. 
And guides his arm to brave things ; fear he cannot, 
He shows no such soft temper. His head's yellow, 
Hard-hair'd, and curl'd, thick twin'd, like ivy-tods,^ 
Not to undo * with thunder ; in his face 
The livery of the warlike maid appears. 
Pure red and white, for yet no beard has blest him ; 
And in his rolling eyes sits Victory, 
As if she ever meant to crown his valour ; 

1 Arms long and round. 2 a belt. 

3 Thick clusters of ivy; so Spenser, Shepherd's A'a/e/rdar , Ma.rch, i, 67. 

4 Not to be destroyed by thunder. 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 457 

His nose stands high, a character of honour; no 

His red lips, after fights, are fit for ladies. — 

Emilia. Must these men die too? 

Pirithous. When he speaks, his tongue 

Sounds like a trumpet ; all his lineaments 
Are as a man would wish 'em, strong and clean ; 
He wears a well steel'd axe, the staff of gold ; 
His age some five-and-twenty. 

Messenger. There's another, 

A littlq man, but of a tough soul, seeming 
As great as any ; fairer promises 
In such a body yet I never look'd on. 

Pirithous. O, he that's freckled-fac'd ? 

Messenger. The same, my lord ; 120 

Are they not sweet ones ? 

Pirithous. Yes, they're well. 

Messenger. Methinks, 

Being so few and well dispos'd, they show 
Great and fine art in nature.^ He's white-hair'd. 
Not wanton-white, but such a manly colour 
Next to an auburn ; tough, and nimble-set, 
Which shews an active soul ; his arms are brawny, 
Lin'd with strong sinews ; to the shoulder-piece 
Gently they swell. 

Which speaks him prone to labour, never fainting 
Under the weight of arms ; stout-hearted, still, 130 

But, when he stirs, a tiger ; he's grey-eyed, 
Which yields compassion where he conquers ; sharp 
To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em 

1 The freckles were not unbecoming ; women still regard a mole on the 
face as a mark of beauty. In the last century patches of black plaster were 
worn. 



458 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act IV. 

He's swift to make 'em his ; he does no wrongs, 

Nor takes none ; he's round-fac'd, and when he smiles 

He shows a lover, when he frowns a soldier. 

About his head he wears the winner's oak, 

And in it stuck the favour of his lady ; 

His age, some six-and-thirty. In his hand 

He bears a charging-staff,^ emboss'd with silver. 14c 

Theseus. Are they all thus ? 

Pirithous. They're all the sons of honour. 

Theseus. Now, as I have a soul, I long to see 'em ! — 
I.ady, you shall see men fight now. 

Hippolyta. I wish it, 

But not the cause, my lord : they would show 
Bravely about the titles of two kingdoms ; 
'Tis pity love should be so tyrannous. — 
Oh, my soft-hearted sister, what think you ? 
Weep not, till they weep blood, wench ! it must be. 

Theseus. You have steel'd 'em with your beauty. — Hon- 
our 'd friend, 150 
To you I give the field ; pray order it 
Fitting the persons that must use it ! 

Ph'ithous. Yes, sir. 

Theseus. Come, I'll go visit 'em : I cannot stay — 
Their fame has fir'd me so — till they appear. 
Good friend, be royal ! 

Ph'ithous. There shall want no bravery.^ 

Emilia. Poor wench, go weep ; for whosoever wins 
Loses a noble cousin for thy sins. S^Exemit? 

1 Lance. 2 Rich decoration. 

3 " Fletcher's masterpiece." — Hlckson. "In the soliloquy of the lady, 
while the poetical spirit is well preserved, the alternations of feeling are 
given with an abruptness and a want of insight into the nicer shades of 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 459 

Scene III.^ — Athens. A Room in the Prison. 
Enter Gaoler, Wooer, and Doctor. 

Doctor. Her distraction is more at some time of the moon 
than at other some, is it not ? 

Gaoler. She is continually in a harmless distemper; 
sleeps little, altogether without appetite, save often drink- 
ing ; dreaming of another world, and a better ; and what 
broken piece of matter soe'er she's about, the name Pala- 
mon lards it ; that she farces - every business withal, fits it to 
every question. — Look, where she comes ! you shall per- 
ceive her behaviour. 9 

Enter Daughter. 

Daughter. I have forgot it quite ; the burden on't was 
" down-a dovvn-a ; " and penned by no worse man than Gi- 
raldo, Emilia's schoolmaster : he's as fantastical, too, as 
ever he may go upon's legs ; for in the next world will Dido 
see Palamon, and then will she be out of love with ^neas. 

Doctor. What stuff's here ! poor soul ! 

Gaoler. Even thus all day long. 16 

Daughter. Now for this charm, that I told you of: you 
must bring a piece of silver on the tip of your tongue, or no 
ferry ; ^ then if it be your chance to come where the blessed 

association, which resemble the extravagant stage effects of the King and 
No King infinitely more than the delicate yet piercing glance with which 
Shakespeare looks into the liuman breast in the Othello ; the language, too, 
is smoother and less powerful than Shakespeare's, and one or two classical 
allusions are a httle too correct and studied for him." — Spalding. 

1 " The idea of this scene has some resemblance to that of Macbeth, v. i," 
— Skeat. 

2 Stuffs. 

3 The ancients placed a piece of silver in the mouth of a corpse to pay 
Charon for passage over the Styx. 



460 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act l\ 

spirits are — there's a sight now ! — we maids that have our 
livers perished, cracked to pieces with love, we shall come 
there, and do nothing all day long but pick flowers with 
Proserpine ; then will I make Palamon a nosegay ; then let 
him — mark me — then — 24 

Doctor. How prettily she's amiss ! note her a little fur- 
ther. 

Daughter. Faith, I'll tell you ; sometime we go to bar- 
ley-break,^ we of the blessed. Alas, 'tis a sore life they have 
i' the other place, such burning, hissing, howling, chattering, 
cursing ! O, they have shrewd measure ! Take heed : if 
one be mad, or hang or drown themselves, thither they go, 
Jupiter bless us ! and there shall they be put in a cauldron 
of lead, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there 
boil like a gammon of bacon that will never be enough. 34 

Doctor. How she continues this fancy ! 'Tis not an 
engraffed ^ madness, but a most thick and profound melan- 
choly. 

Daughter. To hear there a proud lady and a proud city- 
wife howl together ! I were a beast, an I'd call it good 
sport 1 
(Sings) I will be true, my sta7's, my fate, etc. 

S^Exit Daughter. 

Gaoler. What think you of her, sir? 

Doctor. I think she has a perturbed mind, which I cannot 
minister to. 

Gaoler. Alas, what then ? 

1 " A rural game often alluded to in the old dramatists. It was played in 
various ways, but generally in the South of England by six persons, three of 
each sex. The general idea of it was that one couple should try to catch 
the rest, when within certain boundaries, without letting go each other's 
hands.'' — Rolfe. 

2 Grafted. 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 46 1 

Doctor. Understand you she ever affected any man ere 
she beheld Palamon? 

Gaoler. I was once, sir, in great hope she had fixed her 

hking on this gentleman, my friend. 49 

Wooer. I did think so too ; and would account I had a 

great pen'worth ^ on't, to give half my state that both she 

and I at this present stood unfeignedly on the same terms. 

Doctor. That intemperate surfeit of her eye hath distem- 
pered the other senses ; they may return, and settle again 
to execute their preordained faculties ; but they are now in 
a most extravagant vagary. This you must do : confine her 
to a place where the light may rather seem to steal in than 
be permitted. Take upon you, young sir, her friend, the 
name of Palamon ; say you come to eat with her, and to 
commune of love ; this will catch her attention, for this her 
mind beats upon; other objects, that are inserted 'tween 
her mind and eye, become the pranks and friskings of her 
madness. Sing to her such green ^ songs of love as she. 
says Palamon hath sung in prison ; come to her, stuck in as 
sweet flowers as the season is mistress of, and thereto make 
an addition of some other compounded odours which are 
grateful to the sense : all this shall become Palamon, for 
Palamon can sing, and Palamon is sweet, and every good 
thing. Desire to eat with her, carve ^ her, drink to her, and 
still among'* intermingle your petition of grace and accept- 
ance into her favour ; learn what maids have been her com- 
panions and play-feres^; and let them repair to her with 
Palamon in their mouths, and appear to her with tokens, as 
if they suggested for him. It is a falsehood she is in, which 
is with falsehoods to be combated. This may bring her to 

1 A good bargain. 2 Simple. 8 Carve for. 

4 Thereto. ^ Playmates ; travelling companions. 



462 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT v. 

eat, to sleep, and reduce what is now out of square in her 
into their former law and regiment.^ I have seen it ap- 
proved, how many times I know not ; but to make the 
number more, I have great hope in this. I will, between 
the passages of this project, come in with my appliance. 
Let us put it in execution, and hasten the success, which, 
doubt not, will bring forth comfort. \_Exeunt.- 



ACT V.3 

Scene I. — Athens. An Open Space before the Temples of 
Afcij's, Venus, and Diana. 

Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippol\ta, and Attendants. 

Theseus. Now let 'em enter, and before the gods 
Tender their holy prayers ! Let the temples 
Burn bright with sacred fires, and the altars, 
In hallow'd clouds commend their swelling incense 
To those above us ! Let no due be wanting ! 

[^Flourish of cornets. 
They have a noble work in hand, will honour 
The very powers that love 'em. 

Enter Palamon, Arcite, and their Knights. 

Pirithous. Sir, they enter. 

1 Rule, order. 

2 Spalding assigns this scene to Fletcher ; but Hlckson thinks it is 
Shakespeare '5 " in style and language, and its freedom from all marks of 
imitation." 

3 Most of the critics assign this act (except Scene 2) to Shakespeare; 
but Skeat, LiUledale, and Fleay attribute the opening to Fletcher. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 463 

Theseus. You valiant and strong-hearted enemies. 
You royal germane ^ foes, that this day come 
To blow the nearness ^ out that flames between ye, 10 

Lay by your anger for an hour, and dove-like 
Before the holy altars of our helpers, 
The all-fear'd gods, bow down your stubborn bodies. 
Your ire is more than mortal ; so your help be ! 
And as the gods regard ye, fight with justice ! 
I'll leave you to your prayers, and betwixt ye 
I part my wishes. 

Plrithous. Honour crown the worthiest ! 

[^Exeiint Theseus and train. 

Palamon. The glass is running now that cannot finish 
Till one of us expire : think you but thus, — 
That, were there aught in me which strove to show 20 

Mine enemy in this business, were't one eye 
Against another, arm oppress'd by arm, 
I would destroy the offender ; coz, I would, 
Though parcel of myself : then from this gather 
How I should tender you. 

Arcite. I am in labour 

To push your name, your ancient love, our kindred, 
Out of my memory ; and i' the self-same place 
To seat something I would confound : so hoist we 
The sails that must these vessels port even where 
The heavenly Limiter pleases ! 

Palamon. You speak well. 30 

Before I turn, let me embrace thee, cousin. [^They embrace. 

1 Akin. 

2 Obscure : Skeai suggests " to extinguish that kinship that exists between 
you," Rolfe thinks that " nearness " refers to their friendship, bigleby 
would substitute " fierceness." 



464 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [aci v. 



This I shall never do again. 

Arcite. One farewell ! 

Pala7non. Why, let it be so ; farewell, coz ! 

Arcite. Farewell, sir ! 

\_Exeunt Palamon and his Knights. 
Knights, kinsmen, lovers, yea, my sacrifices. 
True worshippers of Mars, whose spirit in you 
Expels the seeds of fear, and the apprehension 
Which still is father of it, go with me 
Before the god of our profession. There 
Require of him the hearts of lions, and 
The breath of tigers, yea, the fierceness too ; ' 40 

Yea, the speed also, — to ga on, I mean. 
Else wish we to be snails. You know my prize 
Must be dragg'd out of blood ; force and great feat 
Must put my garland on, where she will stick 
The queen of flowers. Our intercession, then. 
Must be to him that makes the camp a cestron ^ 
Brimm'd with the blood of men ; give me your aid, 
And bend your spirits towards him. — 

[They advance to the alta?- of Mars, and fall on 
their faces ; then kneel. 
Thou mighty one, that with thy power hast turn'd 
Green Neptune into purple ; whose approach 50 

Comets prewarn ; whose havoc in vast field 
Unearthed skulls proclaim ; whose breath blows down 
The teeming Ceres' foison^ ; who dost pluck 
With hand armipotent from forth blue clouds 
The mason'd turrets ; that both mak'st and break'st 
The stony girths of cities ; me, thy pupil, 
Young'st follower of thy drum, instruct this day 
1 Cistern. 2 plenty. 



-I 



SCENE 1.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 465 

With military skill, that to thy laud 

I may advance my streamer, and by thee 

Be styl'd the lord o' the day. Give me, great Mars, 60 

Some token of thy pleasure. 

\_Here they fall on their faces as before, and there 
is heard clanging of armour, with a short 
thunder, as the burst of a battle, whereupon 
they all rise, and bow to the altar. 

O great corrector of enormous ^ times, 

Shaker of o'er-rank states, thou grand decider 

Of dusty and old titles, that heal'st with blood 

The earth when it is sick, and cur'st the world 

O' the plurisy ^ of people, I do take 

Thy signs auspiciously, and in thy name 

To my design march boldly ! — Let us go. \_Exeunt. 

Re-enter Palamon a7id his Knights. 

Palamon. Our stars must glister with new fires, or be 
To-day extinct ; our argument is love, 70 

Which if the goddess of it grant, she gives 
Victory too : then blend your spirits with mine. 
You whose free nobleness do make my cause 
Your personal hazard. To the goddess Venus 
Commend we our proceeding, and implore 
Her power unto our party ! — 

\Here they advance to the altar of Venus, and 
fall on their faces ; then kneel. 
Hail, sovereign queen of secrets ! who hast power 
To call the fiercest tyrant from his rage. 
And weep unto a girl ; that hast the might 
Even with an eye-glance to choke Mars's drum, 80 

1 Monstrous. - Plethora. 



466 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT V. 

And turn the alarm to whispers ; that canst make 

A cripple flourish with his crutch, and cure him 

Before Apollo ; ^ that mayst force the king 

To be his subject's vassal, and induce 

Stale gravity to dance ; the polled ^ bachelor, 

Whose youth, like wanton boys through bonfires, 

Have skipt thy flame, at seventy thou canst catch, 

And make him, to the scorn of his hoarse throat. 

Abuse young lays of love. What godlike power 

Hast thou not power upon ? To Phoebus thou 90 

Add'st flames, hotter than his ; the heavenly fires 

Did scorch his mortal son, thine him ; the huntress. 

All moist and cold, some say, began to throw 

Her bow away and sigh.^ Take to thy grace 

Me thy vow'd soldier, who do bear thy yoke 

As 'twere a wreath of roses, yet is heavier 

Than lead itself, stings more than nettles. I 

Have never been foul-mouth'd against thy law. 

Ne'er reveal'd secret, for I knew none, — would not. 

Had I kenn'd all that were ; I never practis'd 100 

Upon man's wife, nor would the libels read 

Of liberal wits ; I never at great feasts 

Sought to betray a beauty, but have blush'd 

At simpering sirs that did ; I have been harsh 

To large"* confessors, and have hotly ask'd them 

If they had mothers. I had one, a woman. 

And women 'twere they wrong'd. I knew a man 

Of eighty winters — this I told them — who 

1 Before Apollo can. 2 Shorn, bald-headed. 

3 Compare this eulogy of Venus with Zorobabel's description of the 
power of woman, in the Apocryphal Old Testa?nent, i Esdras, chap. 4. 
-* Licentious boasters. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 467 

A lass of fourteen brided. 'Tvvas thy poM^er 

To put life into dust ; the aged cramp no 

Had screw'd his square foot round, 

The gout had knit his fingers into knots, 

Torturing convulsions from his globy ^ eyes 

Had almost drawn their spheres, that what was life 

In him seem'd torture. This anatomy '^ 

Had by his young fair fere a boy, and I 

Believ'd it was his, for she swore it was. 

And who would not believe her? Brief, I am 

To those that prate, and have done, no companion ; 

To those that boast, and have not, a defier; , 120 

To those that would, and cannot, a rejoicer ; 

Yea, him I do not love that tells close offices 

The foulest way, nor names concealments in 

The boldest language : such a one I am. 

And vow that lover never yet made sigh 

Truer than I. O, then, most soft sweet goddess, 

Give me the victory of this question, which 

Is true love's merit, and bless me with a sign 

Of thy great pleasure ! 

\Here music is heard, doves are seen to flutter ; they 
fall again upon their faces, then on their knees. 
O thou that from eleven to ninety reign'st 130 

In mortal bosoms, whose chase ^ is this world, 
And we in herds thy game, I give thee thanks 
For this fair token, which, being laid unto 
Mine innocent true heart, arms in assurance 
My body to this business ! — Let us rise 
And bow before the goddess ; time comes on. 

\They bow, then exeufif. 

1 Bulging. 2 Skeleton. 3 Hunting-ground. 



468 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 



[ACT V. 



Still 77iusic of j-ecords. Enter Emilia in white, her hair 
about her shoulders, and wearing a wheaten wreath ; one 
in white holding up her train, her hair stuck with flowers ; 
one before her carrying a silver hind, in which is conveyed 
incefise and sweet odours, which being set upon the altar of 
Diana, her Maids standifig aloof, she sets fire to it; then 
they curtsy and kneel. 

Emilia. O sacred, shadowy, cold, and constant queen, 
Abandoner of revels, mute, contemplative. 
Sweet, solitary, white as chaste, and pure 
As wind-fann'd snow, who to thy female knights 140 

Allow 'st no more blood than will make a blush, 
Which is their order's robe, I here, thy priest. 
Am humbled 'fore thine altar ! O, vouchsafe, 
With that thy rare green ^ eye — which never yet 
Beheld thing maculate — look on thy virgin ! 
And, sacred silver mistress, lend thine ear — 
Which ne'er heard scurril ^ term, into whose port 
Ne'er entered wanton sound — to my petition, 
Season'd with holy fear ! This is my last 
Of vestal office ; I'm bride habited, 150 

But maiden-hearted ; a husband I have pointed,' 
But do not know him ; out of two I should 
Choose one, and pray for his success, but I 
Am guiltless of election ; of mine eyes. 
Were I to lose one — they are equal precious — 

1 Green eyes were esteemed peculiarly beautiful ; so Romeo and yuliet, 

iii, 5, 221: — 

" An eagle, madam, 
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye." 

Dante describes Beatrice's eyes as smeraldi, emeralds, Purgatorio, xxxi, 
116. 

2 Scurrilous. 3 Appointed. 



SCENE I.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 469 

I could doom neither ; that which perish'd should 

Go to't unsentenc'd : therefore, most modest queen, 

He, of the two pretenders,^ that best loves me 

And has the truest title in't, let him 

Take off my wheaten garland,- or else grant 160 

The file and quahty I hold I may 

Continue in thy band. — 

[Here the hind vanishes under the altar, and in 
the place ascends a rose-tree, having one 
rose upon it. 

See what our general of ebbs and flows ^ 

Out from the bowels of her holy altar 

With sacred act advances ! But one rose ! 

If well inspir'd, this battle shall confound 

Both these brave knights, and I, a virgin flower, 

Must grow alone, unpluck'd. 

\_Here is heard a sudden twang of instruments, 
and the rose falls from the tree, which van- 
ishes under the altar. 

The flower is fallen, the tree descends ! — O mistress, 

Thou here dischargest me ! I shall be gather'd, 170 

I think so ; but I know not thine own will : 

Unclasp thy mystery ! — I hope she's pleas'd ; 

Her signs were gracious. \They curtsy, and exeunt. 

1 Suitors. 2 Nuptial wreath. 

8 Refers to the moon (Diana) as ruler of the tides. 



470 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act V. 

Scene II. — A Room in the Prison. 
Efiter Doctor, Gaoler, and Wooer in the habit of Palamon. 

Doctor. Has this advice I told you done any good upon 
her? 

Wooer. O, very much : the maids that kept her company 
Have half persuaded her that I am Palamon ; 
Within this half-hour she came smiling to me, 
And ask'd me what I'd eat, and when I'd kiss her : 
I told her presently, and kissed her twice. 

Doctor. 'Twas well done ; twenty times had been far 
better. 
For there the cure lies mainly. 

Wooer. Then she told me 

She would watch with me to-night, for well she knew \o 

What hour my fit would take me. 

Doctor. Let her do so. 

Wooer. She would have me sing. 

Doctor. You did so? 

Wooer. No. 

Doctor. 'Twas very ill done, then ; 
You should observe her every way. 

Wooer. Alas ! 

I have no voice, sir, to confirm her that way. 

Doctor. That's all one, if ye make a noise ; 
If she entreat again, do anything. 
Ne'er cast your child away for honesty. 

Gaoler. Thank you, doctor. 

Doctor. Pray, bring her in, 20 

And let's see how she is. 

Gaoler. I will, and tell her 



I 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 47 1 

Her Palamon stays for her ; but, doctor, 

Methinks you are i' the wrong still. \_Exif. 

Doctor. Go, go ; 

You fathers are fine fools : her honesty ! 
An we should give her physic till we find that — 

Wooer. Why, do you think she is not honest, sir? 

Doctor. How old is she ? 

Wooer. She's eighteen. 

Doctor. She may be ; 

But that's all one, 'tis nothing to our purpose. 
Whate'er her father says, if you perceive 
Her mood inclining that way that I spoke of. — 

Wooer. Yes, very well, sir. 36 

Enter Gaoler, Daughter, and Maid. 

Gaoler. Come ; your love Palamon stays for you, child ; 
And has done this long hour, to visit you. 

Daughter. I thank him for his gentle patience ; 
He's a kind gentleman, and I am much bound to him. 
Did you ne'er see the horse he gave me? 

Gaoler. Yes. 

Daughter. How do you like him ? 

Gaoler. He's a very fair one. 

Daughter. You never saw him dance ? 

Gaoler. No. 

Daughter. I have often : 

He dances very finely, very comely ; 
And, for a jig, come cut and long tail^ to him ! 
He turns ye like a top. 

Gaoler. That's fine indeed. 40 

1 Proverbial phrase, " Let horses of every kind compete with and beat him, 
if they can." 



472 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act V. 

Daughter. He'll dance the morris twenty mile an hour, — 
And that will founder the best hobby-horse, 
If I have any skill, in all the parish, — 
And gallops to the tune of '' Light o' Love " ; 
What think you of this horse ? 

Gaoler. Having these virtues, 

I think he might be brought to play at tennis. 

Daughter. Alas, that's nothing ! 

Gaoler. Can he write and read too? 

Daughter. A very fair hand, and casts himself the accounts 
Of all his hay and provender ; that hostler 
Must rise betime that cozens him. You know 50 

The chestnut mare the duke has? 

Gaoler. Very well. 

Daughter. She is horribly in love with him, poor beast ; 
But he is like his master, coy and scornful. 

Gaoler. What dowry has she ? 

Daughter. Some two hundred bottles,^ 

And twenty strike ^ of oats : but he'll ne'er have her ; 
He lisps in's neighing, able to entice 
A miller's mare ; ^ he'll be the death of her. 

Doctor. What stuff she utters ! 

Gaoler. Make curtsy ; here your lover comes. 

Wooer. Pretty soul, 

How do ye? That's a fine maid ! there's a curtsy ! 60 

Daughter. Yours to command, i' the way of honesty. 
How far is't now to the end o' the world, my masters ? 

Doctor. Why, a day's journey, wench. 

1 Bundles of hay. 2 Bushel ; still used in provincial English. 

3 "A miller's mare, working round a beaten track (to drive the mill), 
was perhaps proverbial for her steady-going attention to business." — Little- 
dale. 



SCENE II.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 4.73 

Daughter. Will you go with me ? 

Wooer. What shall we do there, wench ? 

Daughter. Why, play at stool-ball.^ 

What is there else to do ? 

Wooer. I am content, 

If we shall keep our wedding there. 

Daughter. 'Tis true ; 

For there, I will assure you, we shall find 
Some blind priest for the purpose, that will venture 
To marry us, for here they are nice ^ and foolish ; 
Besides, my father must be hang'd to-morrow, 70 

And that would be a blot i' the business. 
Are not you Palamon? 

Wooer. Do not you know me ? 

Daughter. Yes ; but you care not for me ; I have noth- 
ing 
But this poor petticoat and two coarse smocks. 

Wooer. That's all one ; I will have you. 

Daughter. Will you surely? 

Wooer. Yes, by this fair hand, will I. S^Kisses her. 

■ Daughter. O, sir, you'd fain be nibbling ! 

Wooer. Why do you rub my kiss off? 

Daughter. 'Tis a sweet one, 

And will perfume me finely against the wedding. — 
Is not this your cousin Arcite ? 

Doctor. Yes, sweetheart ; 

And I am glad my cousin Palamon 80 

Has made so fair a choice. 

Daughter. Do you think he'll have me ? 

1 A game popular among young women, played with a ball and one or 
two stools, 

2 Over-particular. 



474 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act V. 

Doctor. Yes, without doubt. 

Daughter. Do you think so too? i 

Gaoler. Yes. | 

Daughter. We shall have many children. — Lord, how 
y' are grown ! 

My Palamon I hope will grow too, finely, 

Now he's at liberty ; alas, poor chicken ! 

He was kept down with hard meat and ill lodging, 

But I will kiss him up again. 

Enter a Messenger. ^^% 

Messenger. What do you here? you'll lose the noblest 
sight 
That e'er was seen. 

Gaoler. Are they i' the field? 

Messenger. They are ; 

You bear a charge there too. 

Gaoler. I'll away straight. — 90 

I must even leave you here. 

Doctor. Nay, we'll go with you ; 

I will not lose the sight. 

Gaoler. How did you like her? 

Doctor. I'll warrant you, within these three or four days 
I'll make her right again. — You must not from her, 
But still preserve her in this way. 

Wooer. I will. 

Doctor. Let's get her in. 

Wooer. Come, sweet, we'll go to dinner ; 

And then we'll play at cards. \_Exeunt.^ 

1 This scene is " disgusting and imbecile in the extreme," and " may be 
dismissed with a single quotation : ' What stuff she utters ! ' " — Spalding. 
" The former scene (Act iv, 3) is in prose wholly, while this is in Fletcher's 



THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 475 



Scene III. — A Part of the Forest, near the Place of Combat. 

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, Pirithous, and Attend- 
ants. 

Emilia. I'll no step further. 

Pirithous. Will you lose this sight? 

Emilia. I had rather see a wren hawk at a fly 
Than this decision : every blow that falls 
Threats a brave life ; each stroke laments 
The place whereon it falls, and sounds more like 
A bell than blade. I will stay here, — 
It is enough my hearing shall be punished 
With what shall happen, 'gainst the which there is 
No deafing but to hear, — not taint mine eye 
With dread sights it may shun. 

Pirithous. Sir, my good lord, 10 

Your sister will no further. 

Theseus. O, she must ! 

She shall see deeds of honour in their kind, 
Which sometime show well, pencill'd ; nature now 
Shall make and act the story, the belief 
Both seal'd with eye and ear. You must be present ; 
You are the victor's meed, the price and garland 
To crown the question's title. 

Emilia. Pardon me ; 

If I were there, I'd wink. 

Theseus. You must be there ; 

verse ; but, in short, the tone and moral effect of the two scenes are so dif- 
ferent, the same characters have so altered an aspect, the language, senti- 
ments, and allusions are so unlike, that the case of any one who can read 
and deliberately compare them, and still believe them to be by the same 
writer, we must give over as hopeless." — Hickson. 



476 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act V. 

This trial is as 'twere i' the night, and you 
The only star to shine. 

Euiilia. I am extinct j 20 

There is but envy ^ in that light which shews 
The one the other. Darkness, which ever was 
The dam of Horror, who does stand accurs'd 
Of many mortal millions, may even now, 
By casting her black mantle over both, 
That neither could find other, get herself 
Some part of a good name, and many a murther 
Set off- whereto she's guilty. 

Hippolyta. You must go. 

Ei7iiUa. In faith, I will not. 

Theseus. Why, the knights must kindle 

Their valour at your eye ; know, of this war 30 

You are the treasure, and must needs be by 
To give the service pay. 

Emilia. Sir, pardon me ; 

The title of a kingdom may be tried 
Out of itself. 

Theseus. Well, well, then, at your pleasure ! 
Those that remain with you could wish their office 
To any of their enemies. 

Hippolyta. Farewell, sister ! 

I am like to know your husband 'fore yourself, 
By some small start of time ; he whom the gods 
Do of the two know best, I pray them he 
Be made your lot ! 40 

\_Exeunt all except Emilia and so7ne of the Attendants. 

Emilia. Arcite is gendy visag'd, yet his eje 
Is like an engine bent,^ or a sharp weapon 

1 Malice. 2 Offset. 3 Ready for use. 



1 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 477 

In a soft sheath ; mercy and manly courage 

Are bedfellows in his visage. Palamon 

Has a most menacing aspect ; his brow- 
Is grav'd, and seems to bury what it frowns on : 

Yet sometimes 'tis not so, but alters to 

The quality of his thoughts ; long time his eye 

Will dwell upon his object. Melancholy 

Becomes him nobly ; so does Arcite's mirth : 50 

But Palamon's sadness is a kind of mirth, 

So mingled as if mirth did make him sad, 

And sadness merry ; those darker humours that 

Stick misbecomingly on others, on him 

Live in fair dwelling. — 

[ Coi^nets. Trumpets sound as to a charge. 

Hark, how yon spurs to spirit do incite 

The princes to their proof ! Arcite may win me ; 

And yet may Palamon wound Arcite, to 

The spoiling of his figure. O, what pity 

Enough for such a chance ! If I were by, 60 

I might do hurt ; for they would glance their eyes 

Toward my seat, and in that motion might 

Omit a ward,^ or forfeit an offence.- 

Which crav'd that very time : it is much better 

\_Corncts. Cry within, "A Palamon ! " 

I am not there : O, better never born 

Than minister to such harm ! — What is the chance ? 
Servant. The cry's "A Palamon." 
Emilia. Then he has won. 'Twas ever likely ; 

He look'd all grace and success, and he is 

Doubtless the prim'st of men. I prithee run, 70 

1 Guard. 2 Blow. 



478 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act v. 

And tell me how it goes. 

[^Shout, and cornets; cry, " A Palamon ! " 
Servant. Still " Palamon." 

Emilia. Run and inquire. — {Exit Servant.) Poor ser- 
vant, thou hast lost ! 
Upon my right side still I wore thy picture, 
Palamon's on the left : why so, I know not ; 
] had no end in't else ; chance would have it so. 

[^Another cry and shout within, and cornets. 
On the sinister side the heart lies ; Palamon 
Plad the best-boding chance. This burst of clamour 
Is, sure, the end o' the combat. 

Re-enter Servant. 

Servant. They said that Palamon had Arcite's body 
Within an inch o' the pyramid, that the cry 80 

Was general " A Palamon " ; but anon, 
The assistants made a brave redemption,^ and 
The two bold tilters at this instant are 
Hand to hand at it. 

Emilia. Were they metamorphos'd 

Both into one — O, why, there were no woman 
Worth so compos'd a man ! Their single share, 
Their nobleness peculiar to them, gives 
The prejudice of disparity, value's shortness, 

[Cornets. Cry within, " Arcite, Arcite ! " 
To any lady breathing. — More exulting ! 
"Palamon" still? 

Servant. Nay, now the sound is " Arcite." 90 

Emilia. I prithee lay attention to the cry ; 

\_Cornets. A great shout and cry, " Arcite, victory ! " 

1 Rescue. 



SCENE III.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 479 

Set both thine ears to the business. 

Servant. The cry is 

*' Arcite, and victory ! " Hark " Arcite, victory ! " 
The combat's consummation is proclaim'd 
By the wind-instruments. 

Emilia. Half-sights ' saw- 

That Arcite was no babe ; God's lid, his richness 
And costliness of spirit look'd through him ! it could 
No more be hid in him than fire in flax, 
Than humble banks can go to law with waters 
That drift-winds force to raging. I did think 100 

Good Palamon would miscarry ; yet I knew not 
Why I did think so : our reasons are not prophets, 
When oft our fancies are. They're coming off; 
Alas, poor Palamon ! \^Co?'nets. 

Enter Theseus,* Hippolyta, Pirithous, Arcite as victor^ 
Attendants, etc. 

Theseus. Lo, where our sister is in expectation, 
Yet quaking and unsettled ! — Fairest Emily, 
The gods by their divine arbitrement, 
Have given you tliis knight ; he is a good one 
As ever struck at head. — Give me your hands ! 
Receive you her, you him ; be plighted with no 

A love that grows as you decay ! 

Arcite. Emily, 

To buy you I have lost what's dearest to me. 
Save what is bought ; and yet I purchase cheaply, 
As I do rate your value. 

Theseus. O, lov'd sister, 

He speaks now of as brave a knight as e'er 

1 Hasty glances. 



480 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act V. 

Did spur a noble steed ; surely the gods 

Would have him die a bachelor, lest his race 

Should show i' the world too godlike ! His behaviour 

So charm 'd me, that methought Alcides ^ was 

To him a sow^ of lead ; if I could praise 120 

Each part of him to the all I've spoke, your Arcite 

Did not lose by't, for he that was thus good 

Encounter'd yet his better. I have heard 

Two emulous Philomels ^ beat the ear o' the night, 

With their contentious throats, now one the higher, 

Anon the other, then again the first. 

And by and by out-breasted,^ that the sense 

Could not be judge between 'em ; so it fair'd 

Good space between these kinsmen, till heavens did 

Make hardly one the winner. — Wear the garland 130 

With joy that you have won ! — For the subdued. 

Give them our present justice, since I know 

Their lives but pinch ^ 'em ; let it here be done, 

The scene's not for our seeing ; go we hence, 

Right joyful, with some sorrow ! — Arm your prize ;^ 

I know you will not lose her. — Hippolyta, 

I see one eye of yours conceives a tear, 

The which it will deliver. S^Flourish. 

1 Hercules. 

2 " Sow, WV.^ pig, is used to denote a mass of smelted metal." — Rolfe. 

3 Nightingales. ■* Out-sung. 

5 " Vex them. It was in the very spirit of chivalry that a warrior should 
not care to survive defeat. This docm of Palamon and his three knights 
would be revolting, if it were not that the spectators might be expected to 
know enough of Chaucer's story to m?Jce them suspect that the sentence 
would not really be executed. To which must be added the consideration, 
that the spectators of plays in the time of James I could behold, almost 
unmoved, many things which we now shudder even to read." — Skcat. 

•J Embrace. 



SCENE IV.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 481 

Emilia. Is this winning? 

all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy? 

But that your wills have said it must be so, 140 

And charge me live to comfort this unfriended. 

This miserable prince, that cuts away 

A life more worthy from him than all women, 

1 should and would die too. 
h'ippolyta. Infinite pity. 

That four such eyes should be so fix'd on one 
That two must needs be blind for't ! 

Theseus, So it is. \_Exeunt} 

Scene IV. — The Same Part of the Forest as in Act III, 
Scene VI. 

Enter Palamon and his Knights pinioned, Gaoler, Execu- 
tioner, and Guard. 

Palamon. There's many a man alive that hath outliv'd 
The love o' the people ; yea, i' the self-same state 
Stands many a father with his child. Some comfort 
We have by so considering ; we expire, 
And not without men's pity ; to live still 
Have their good wishes ; we prevent 
The loathsome misery of age, beguile 
The gout and rheum, that in lag^ hours attend 
For grey approachers ; we come towards the gods 

1 The details of this scene, says Spalding, " make it clear that Shake- 
speare's hand was in it. The greater part, it is true, is not of the highest 
excellence ; but the vacillations of Emilia's feelings are well and delicately 
given, some individual thoughts and words mark Shakespeare ; there is 
little of his obscure brevity, much of his thoughtfulness legitimately applied, 
and an instance or two of its abuse." 

2 Lingering, or late. 



482 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [ACT V. 

Young and unwapper'd,^ not halting under crimes 10 

Many and stale ; that, sure, shall please the gods 
Sooner than such, to give us nectar with 'em, 
For we are more clear spirits. My dear kinsmen. 
Whose lives for this poor comfort are laid down. 
You've sold 'em too-too cheap. 

1st Kiiight. What ending could be 

Of more content? O'er us the victors have 
Fortune, whose title is as momentary 
As to us death is certain ; a grain of honour 
They not o'ervveigh us. 

2d Knight. Let us bid farewell. 

And with our patience anger tottering Fortune, 20 

Who, at her certain'st, reels. 

J d Knight. Come; who begins? 

Palamon. Even he that led you to this banquet shall 
Taste - to you all. — Ah ha, my friend, my friend ! 
Your gentle daughter gave me freedom once ; 
You'll see't done now for ever. Pray, how does she? 
I heard she was not well ; her kind of ill 
Gave me some sorrow. 

Gaoler. Sir, she's well restor'd, 

And to be married shortly. 

Palamon. By my short life, 

I am most glad on't ! 'Tis the latest thing 
I shall be glad of; prithee, tell her so : 30 

Commend me to her, and, to piece her portion, 
Tender her this. [ Gives a purse. 

1st Knight. Nay, let's be offerers all. 

1 Unworn. 

2 " Alluding to the ancient custom of having the king's food tasted before 
it was served, as a precaution against poison." — Rolfc. 



i 



SCENE IV.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 483 

2d K night. Is it a maid? 

Palamon. Verily, I think so ; 

A right good creature, more to me deserving 
Than I can quit or speak of. 

All Knights. Commend us to her. [Give their purses. 

Gaoler. The gods requite you all, 

And make her thankful ! 

Palamon. Adieu ! and let my life be now as short 
As my leave-taking. \Lays his head on the block. 

1st Ktiight. Lead, courageous cousin. 

2d Knight. We'll follow cheerfully. 

\_A great noise within, crying, ^' Run, save, hold ! " 

Enter in haste a Messenger. 

Messenger. Hold, hold ! O, hold, hold, hold ! 40 

Enter Pirithous in haste. 

Pirithous. Hold, ho ! it is a cursed haste you made. 
If you have done so quickly. — Noble Palamon, 
The gods will show their glory in a life 
That thou art yet to lead. 

Palainon. Can that be, when 

Venus I've said is false? How do things fare? 

Pirithous. Arise, great sir, and give the tidings ear 
That are most dearly sweet and bitter ! 

Pdlamo7i. What 

Hath wak'd us from our dream ? [Palamon rises. 

Pirithous. List then ! Your cousin, 

Mounted upon a steed that Emily 

Did first bestow on him, — a black one, owing ^ 50 

Not a hair- worth of white, which some will say 

1 Owning. 



484 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [act v. 

Weakens his price, and many will not buy 

His goodness with this note ; which superstition 

Here finds allowance, — on this horse is Arcite, 

Trotting the stones of Athens, which the calkins ^ 

Did rather tell ^ than trample ; for the horse 

Would make his length a mile, if't pleas'd his rider 

To put pride in him : as he thus went counting 

The flinty pavement, dancing as 'twere to the music 

His own hoofs made — for, as they say, from iron 60 

Came music's origin — what envious flint. 

Cold as old Saturn, and like him possessed 

With fire malevolent, darted a spark, 

Or what fierce sulphur else, to this end made, 

I comment not ; the hot horse, hot as fire, 

Took toy^ at this, and fell to what disorder 

His power could give his will, bounds, comes on end. 

Forgets school-doing, being therein trained, 

x\nd of kind manage ^ ; pig-like he whines 

At the sharp rowel, which he frets at rather 70 

Than any jot obeys ; seeks all foul means 

Of boisterous and rough jadery,"^ to disseat 

His lord that kept it bravely. When nought serv'd. 

When neither curb would crack, girth break, nor differing 

plunges 
Disroot his rider whence he grew, but that 
He kept him 'tween his legs, on his hind hoofs 
On end he stands. 
That Arcite's legs being higher than his head, 

1 The parts of a horseshoe which are turned up and pointed to prevent 
a horse from slipping. 

2 Count. 4 Managing a horse ; French manege. 
8 Freak. 5 Viciousness. 



1 



SCENE IV.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 485 

Seem'd with strange art to hang ; his victor's wreath 

Even then fell off his head, and presently 80 

Backward the jade comes o'er, and his full poise 

Becomes the rider's load. Yet is he living ; 

But such a vessel 'tis that floats but for 

The surge that next approaches : he much desires 

To have some speech with you. Lo, he appears ! 

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Emilia, a7id Arcite borne in a 

chair. 

Palamon. O miserable end of our alliance ! 
The gods are mighty ! — Arcite, if thy heart, 
Thy worthy manly heart, be yet unbroken. 
Give me thy last words ; I am Palamon ; 
One that yet loves thee dying. 

Arcite. Take Emilia, 90 

And with her all the world's joy. Reach thy hand ; 
Farewell ! I've told my last hour. I was false. 
Yet never treacherous ; forgive me, cousin ! — 
One kiss from fair Emilia ! (^Kisses her.) — 'Tis done : 
Take her. I die ! \_nies. 

Palamon. Thy brave soul seek Elysium ! 

Emilia. I'll close thine eyes, prince ; blessed souls be 
with thee ! 
Thou art a right good man ; and, while I live. 
This day I give to tears. 

Palamon. And I to honour. 

Theseus. In this place first you fought ; even very here 
I sunder'd you : acknowledge to the gods 100 

Your thanks that you are living. 
His part is play'd, and, though it were too short, 
He did it well ; your day is lengthen'd, and 



486 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEX. [act v. 

The blissful dew of heaven does arrose ^ you. 
The powerful Venus well hath grac'd her altar, 
And given you your love ; our master Mars 
Has vouch'd his oracle, and to Arcite gave 
The grace of the contention : so the deities 
Have show'd due justice. — Bear this hence. 

Palamoji. O cousin, 

That we should things desire which do cost us no 

The loss of our desire ! that nought could buy 
Dear love but loss of dear love ! 

Theseus. Never fortune 

Did play a subtler game : the conquer'd triumphs, 
The victor has the loss ; yet in the passage 
The gods have been most equal. Palamon, 
Your kinsman hath confess'd the right o' the lady 
Did lie in you, for you first saw her and 
Even then proclaim'd your fancy ; he restor'd her, 
As your stolen jewel, and desir'd your spirit 
To send him hence forgiven. The gods my justice 120 

Take from my hand, and they themselves become 
The executioners. Lead your lady off ; " 
And call your lovers from the stage of death, 
Whom I adopt my friends. A day or two 
Let us look sadly, and give grace unto 
The funeral of Arcite ; in whose end 
The visages of bridegrooms we'll put on. 
And smile with Palamon, for whom an hour, 
But one hour since, I was as dearly sorry 
As glad of Arcite, and am now as glad 130 

As for him sorry. — O you heavenly charmers,^ 
What things you make of us ! For what we lack 

1 Besorinkle, 2 Enchanters. 



EPILOGUE.] THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. 487 

We laugh, for what we have are sorry ; still 

Are children in some kind. Let us be thankful 

For that which is, and with you leave dispute. 

That are above our question. — Let's go off, 

And bear us like the time. \_Flounsh. Exeunt} 



EPILOGUE. 



I would now ask ye how ye like the play ; 
But, as it is with school-boys, cannot say 
I am cruel-fearful. Pray, yet stay a while. 
And let me look upon ye. No man smile ? 
Then it goes hard, I see. — He that has 

1 " The manner is Shakespeare's, and some parts are little inferior to his 
very finest passages." — Spalding. "The scene is opened by Shakespeare 
in his most majestic vein of meditative or moral verse, pointed and coloured 
as usual with him alone by direct and absolute aptitude to the immediate 
sentiment and situation of the speaker and of no man else : then either 
Fletcher strikes in for a moment with a touch of somewhat more Shake- 
spearean tone than usual, or possibly we have a survival of some lines' 
length, not unretouched by Fletcher, from Shakespeare's first sketch for a. 
conclusion of the somewhat calamitous and cumbrous underplot, which in 
any case was ultimately left for Fletcher to expand into such a shape and 
bring by such means to an end as we may safely swear that Shakespeare 
would never have admitted ; then with the entrance and ensuing narrative 
of Pirithous we have none but Shakespeare before us again, though it be 
Shakespeare undoubtedly in the rough, and not as he might have chosen to 
present himself after due revision, with rejection (we may well suppose) 
of this point and readjustment of that; then upon the arrival of the dying 
Arcite with his escort there follows a grievous little gap, a flaw but pitifully 
patched by Fletcher, whom we recognize at wellnigh his worst and weakest 
in Palamon's appeal to his kinsman for a last word, ' if his heart, his wor- 
thy, vianly heart' (an exact and typical example of Fletcher's tragically 
prosaic and prosaically tragic dash of incurable commonplace), 'be yet 
unbroken,' and in the flaccid and futile answer which fails so signally to 
supply the place of the most famous and pathetic passage in all the master- 



488 THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN. [epilogue. 

Lov'd a young handsome wench, then, show his face — 

'Tis strange if none be here — and, if he will 

Against his conscience, let him hiss and kill 

Our market ! 'Tis in vain, I see, to stay ye ; 

Have at the worst can come, then ! Now, what say ye ? lo 

And yet mistake me not : I am not bold ; 

We've no such cause. — If the tale we have told — 

For 'tis no other — any way content ye — 

For to that honest purpose it was meant ye — 

We have our end ; and ye shall have ere long, 

I dare say, many a better, to prolong 

Your old loves to us. We, and all our might. 

Rest at your service ; gentlemen, good night ! \_Flourish. 

piece of Chaucer ; a passage to which even Shakespeare could have added 
but some depth and grandeur of his own giving, since neither he nor 
Dante's very self nor any other among the divinest of men could have done 
more or better than match it for tender and true simplicity of words more 
' dearly sweet and bitter ' than the bitterest or sweetest of men's tears. 
Then after the duly and properly conventional engagement on the parts of 
Palamon and Emilia respectively to devote the anniversary ' to tears ' and 
' to honour,' the deeper tone returns for one grand last time, grave at once 
and sudden and sweet as the full choral opening of an anthein : the note 
which none could ever catch of Shakespeare's very voice gives out the 
peculiar cadence that it alone can give in the modulated instinct of a solemn 
change or shifting of the metrical emphasis or ictus from one to the other of 
two repeated words — 

' that nought could buy 
Dear love but loss of dear love ! ' 

That is a touch beyond the ear or the hand of Fletcher: a chord sounded 
from Apollo's own harp after a somewhat hoarse and reedy wheeze from the 
scrannel-pipe of a lesser player than Pan. Last of all, in words worthy to 
be the latest left of Shakespeare's, his great and gentle Theseus winds up 
the heavenly harmonies of his last beloved grand poem." — Swinburne, 



V. 

THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 

By John Webster. 

Probably produced in 1616; first printed in 1623. The story 
is in Bandello's Novelle, Part I, No. 26; in Belleforest's French 
translation of Bandello, No. 19; in Painter's Palace of Pleasiire^ 
Vol. II, No. 23 ; in Beard's Theatre of God's Judgements, B. ii, 
chap. 22; and in Goulart's Histoires Admirables,No\. I, p. 319. 
Lope de Vega published in 161 8 El Mayordoino de la Duquesa 
de Ainalfi. 



DEDICATION. 

To the Rt. Hon. George Harding, Baron Berkeley, of Berkeley 
Castle^ and Knight of the Order of the Bath to the illustrious 
Prince Charles. 

My Noble Lord, 

THAT I may present my excuse why, being a stranger to your 
lordship, I offer this poem to your patronage, I plead this 
warrant : — men who never saw the sea yet desire to behold that 
regiment of waters, choose some eminent river to guide them 
thither, and make that, as it were, their conduct or postilion : by 
the like ingenious means has your fame arrived at my knowledge, 
receiving it from some of worth, who both in contemplation and 
practice owe to your honour their clearest service. I do not 
altogether look up at your title ; the ancientest nobility being 
but a relic of time past, and the truest honour indeed being for a 
man to confer honour on himself, which your learning strives 
to propagate, and shall make you arrive at the dignity of a 
great example. I am confident this work is not unworthy your 
honour's perusal ; for by such poems as this poets have kissed 
the hands of great princes, and drawn their gentle eyes to look 
down upon their sheets of paper when the poets themselves were 
bound up in their winding-sheets. The like courtesy from your 
lordship shall make you live in your grave, and laurel spring out 
of it, when the ignorant scorners of the Muses, that like worms 
in libraries seem to live only to destroy learning, shall wither 
neglected and forgotten. This work and myself I humbly pre- 
sent to your approved censure, it being the utmost of my wishes 
to have your honourable self my weighty and perspicuous com- 
ment ; which grace so done me shall ever be acknowledged 
By your lordship's in all duty and observance, 

John Webster. 



THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Ferdinand, Duke of Calabria. 
The Cardinal, his Brother. 
Antonio Bologna, Steward of the 

household to the DuCHESS. 
Delio, his Friend. 
Daniel de Bosola, Gentleman of 

the Horse to the DuCHESS. 
Castruccio. 
Marquis of Pescara. 
Count Malatesti. 
Roderigo. 



Silvio. 

Grisolan. 

Doctor. 

Several Madmen, Pilgrims, Execu- 
tioners, Officers, Attendants, etc. 

Duchess of Malfi. 

Cariola, her Woman. 

Julia, Castruccio's Wife, and the 
Cardinal's Mistress. 

Old Lady, Ladies, and Children. 



Scene : Malji, Rome, and Milan. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — The Fresence-cha?nber in the Duchess' Palace 
at Malfi. 

Enter Antonio and Delio. 



Delio. You are welcc»me to your country, dear Antonio ; 
You have been long iix France, and you return 
A very formal Frenchman in your habit : 
How do you like ti;.. French court ? 

491 



492 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT I. 

Ant. I admire it ; 
In seeking to reduce both state and people 
To a fixed order, their judicious king 
Begins at home ; quits first his royal palace 
Of flattering sycophants, of dissolute 
And infamous persons, — which he sweetly terms 
His master's master-piece, the work of Heaven ; lo 

Considering duly that a prince's court 
Is like a common fountain, whence should flow 
Pure silver drops in general, but if t chance 
Some cursed example poison 't near the head, 
Death and diseases through the whole land spread. 
And what is't makes this blessed government 
But a most provident council, who dare freely 
Inform him the corruption of the times? 
Though some o' the court hold it presumption 
To instruct princes what they ought to do, 20 

It is a noble duty to inform them 
What they ought to foresee. — Here comes Bosola, 
The only court-gall ; yet I observe his raihng 
Is not for simple love of piety : 
Indeed, he rails at chose things which he wants ; 
Would be as lecherous, covetous, or proud, 
Bloody, or envious, as any man, 
If he had means to be so. — Here's the cardinal. 

Enter the Cardinal and Bosola.^ 

Bos. I do haunt you still. 
Card. So. 

1 When this play was first performed, about 1616, R. Burbadge played 
the part oi Ferdinand, H. Condell that of the Cardinal, and J. Lowin that of 
Bosola. The Duchess was impersonated by the a- .or R. Sharpe, as female 
roles were not yet taken by women. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 493 

Bos. I have done you better service than to be shghted 
thus. Miserable age, where only the reward of doing well 
is the doing of it ! 32 

Cai'd. You enforce your merit too much. 

Bos. I fell into the galleys in your service ; where, for 
two years together, I wore two towels instead of a shirt, 
with a knot on the shoulder after the fashion of a Roman 
mantle. Slighted thus ! I will thrive some way : black-birds 
fatten best in hard weather ; why not I in these dog-days ? 

Card. Would you could become honest ! 

Bos. With all your divinity do but direct me the way to 
it. I have known many travel far for it, and yet return as 
arrant knaves as they went forth, because they carried them- 
selves always along with them. {Exit Cardinal.) Are you 
gone? Some fellows, they say, are possessed with the devil, 
but this great fellow were able to possess the greatest devil, 
and make him worse. 46 

Ant. He hath denied thee some suit? 

Bos. He and his brother are like plum-trees that grow 
crooked over standing-pools ; they are rich and o'er-laden 
with fruit, but none but crows, pies, and caterpillars feed on 
them. Could I be one of their flattering panders, I would 
hang on their ears like a horseleech, till I were full, and then 
drop off. I pray, leave me. Who would rely upon these 
miserable dependencies, in expectation to be advanced to- 
morrow? what creature ever fed worse than hoping Tanta- 
lus? nor ever died any man more fearfully than he that 
hoped for a pardon. There are rewards for hawks and 
dogs when they have done us service ; but for a soldier that 
hazards his limbs in a battle, nothing but a kind of geometry 
is his last supportation. 60 

Delio. Geometry ! 



494 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT I. 

Bos. Ay, to hang in a fair pair of slings, take his latter 
swing in the world upon an honourable pair of crutches, 
from hospital to hospital. Fare ye well, sir : and yet do 
not you scorn us ; for places in the court are but like beds 
in the hospital, where this man's head lies at that man's 
foot, and so lower and lower. \_Exit. 

Delio. I knew this fellow seven years in the galleys 
For a notorious murder ; and 'twas thought 
The cardinal suborned it : he was released '^ 70 

By the French general, Gaston de Foix, 
When he recovered Naples. 

Ant. 'Tis great pity 
He should be thus neglected : I have heard 
He's very valiant. This foul melancholy 
Will poison all his goodness ; for, FU tell you, 
If too immoderate sleep be truly said 
To be an inward rust unto the soul, 
It then doth follow want of action 
Breeds all black malcontents ; and their close rearing, 
Like moths in cloth, do hurt for want of wearing. 80 

Delio. The presence 'gins to fill : you promised me 
To make me the partaker of the natures 
Of some of your great courtiers. 

Ant. The lord cardinal's. 
And other strangers' that are now in court? 
I shall. — Here comes the great Calabrian duke. 

Enter Ferdinand, Castruccio, Silvio, Roderigo, Grisolan, 
and Attendants. 
Ferd. Who took the ring oftenest ? ^ 

1 " The allusion is to the sport called Running at the Ring, when the tilter, 
riding at full speed, endeavoured to thrust the point of his lance through, 
and to bear away, the ring, which was suspended at a particular height." — 
Dyce. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 495 

SIL Antonio Bologna, my lord. 

Ferd. Our sister duchess' great-master of her household? 
give him the jewel. — When shall we leave this sportive 
action, and fall to action indeed ? 90 

Cast Methinks, my lord, you should not desire to go 
to war in person. 

Ferd. Now for some gravity : — why, my lord? 

CasL It is fitting a soldier arise to be a prince, but not 
necessary a prince descend to be a captain. 

Ferd. No? 

Cast. No, my lord ; he were far better do it by a deputy. 

Ferd. Why should he not as well sleep or eat by a 
deputy? this might take idle, offensive, and base office 
from him, whereas the other deprives him of honour. 100 

Cast. Believe my experience, that realm is never long 
ill quiet where the ruler is a soldier. 

Ferd. Thou toldest me thy wife could not endure fighting. 

Cast. True, my lord. 

Ferd. And of a jest she broke of a captain she met full 
of wounds : I have forgot it. 

Cast. She told him, my lord, he was a pitiful fellow, to 
lie, like the children of Ismael, all in tents.^ 

Ferd. Why, there's a wit were able to undo all the sur- 
geons o' the city ; for although gallants should quarrel, and 
had drawn tlieir weapons, and were ready to go to it, yet 
her persuasions would make them put up. 112 

Cast That she would, my lord. — How do you like my 
Spanish gennet - ? 

1 A play on the word tent, which meant also a roll of lint, or other mate- 
rial, used in searching a wound. 

2 A small Spanish horse (written q\.%o jennet). The word is of Moorish 
origin, there being a tribe of Zenata in Barbary noted for its cavalry. 



496 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act I. 

Rod. He is all fire. 

Ferd. I am of Pliny's opinion,^ I think he was begot by 
the wind ; he runs as if he were ballassed^ with quicksilver. 

Silvio. True, my lord, he reels from the tilt often. 

Rod. Gris. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Fe7'd. Why do you laugh? methinks you that are cour- 
tiers should be my touchwood, take fire when I give fire ; 
that is, laugh but when I laugh, were the subject never so 
witty. 123 

Cast. True, my lord : I myself have heard a very good 
jest, and have scorned to seem to have so silly a wit as to 
understand it. 

Fe7-d. But I can laugh at your fool, my lord. 

Cast. He cannot speak, you know, but he makes faces : 
my lady cannot abide him. 

Ferd. No? 

Cast. Nor endure to be in merry company ; for she says 
too much laughing, and too much company, fills her too 
full of the wrinkle. 133 

Ferd. I would, then, have a mathematical instrument 
made for her face, that she might not laugh out of com- 
pass. — I shall shortly visit you at Milan, Lord Silvio. 

Silvio. Your grace shall arrive most welcome. 

Ferd. You are a good horseman, Antonio : you have 
excellent riders in France : what do you think of good 
horsemanship ? 

Ant. Nobly, my lord : as out of the Grecian horse issued 
many famous princes, so out of brave horsemanship arise 

1 See Pliny, Nat. Hist, viii, 67, where he says that in Lusitania there was 
a breed of fleet horses begotten by the wind Favonius ; they never lived 
more than three years. 

2 Ballasted. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 497 

the first sparks of growing resolution, that raise the mind 
to noble action. 

Ferd. You have bespoke it worthily. 

Silvio. Your brother, the lord cardinal, and sister duchess. 

Re-enter Cardinal, with Duchess, Cariola, and Julia. 

Card. Are the galleys come about? 

Oris. They are, my lord. 148 

Ferd. Here's the Lord Silvio is come to take his leave. 

Delia. Now, Sir, your promise; what's that cardinal? 
I mean his temper? they say he's a brave fellow. 
Will play his five thousand crowns at tennis, dance, 
Court ladies, and one that hath fought single combats. 

Ant. Some such flashes superficially hang on him for 
form ; but observe his inward character : he is a melancholy 
churchman ; the spring in his face is nothing but the engen- 
dering of toads ; where he is jealous of any man, he lays 
worse plots for them than ever was imposed on Hercules, for 
he strews in his way flatterers, panders, intelligencers, atheists, 
and a thousand such poHtical monsters. He should have 
been Pope ; but instead of coming to it by the primitive 
decency of the church, he did bestow bribes so largely and 
so impudently as if he would have carried it away without 
Heaven's knowledge. Some good he hath done — 164 

Delia. You have given too much of him. What's his 
brother? 

Ant. The duke there? a most perverse and turbulent 
nature : 
What appears in him mirth is merely outside ; 
If he laugh heartily, it is to laugh 
All honesty out of fashion. 

Delia. Twins? 



498 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act 1. 

Ant In quality. 
He speaks with others' tongues, and hears men's suits 170 
With others' ears ; will seem to sleep o' the bench 
Only to entrap offenders in their answers ; 
Dooms men to death by information ; _ 

Rewards by hearsay. * 

Delio. Then the law to hmi 
Is like a foul black cobweb to a spider, — 
He makes it his dwelhng and a prison 
To entangle those shall feed him. 

Ant. Most true : 
He never pays debts unless they be shrewd turns, 
And those he will confess that he doth owe. 
Last, for his brother there, the cardinal, 180 

They that do flatter him most -oay oracles 
Hang at his lips \ and verily I beheve them, 
For the devil speaks in them. 
But for their sister, the right noble duchess. 
You never fixed your eye on three fair medals 
Cast in one figure, of so different temper. 
For her discourse, it is so full of rapture. 
You only will begin then to be sorry 
When she doth end her speech, and wish, in wonder, 
She held it less vain-glory to talk much, 190 

Than your penance to hear her : whilst she speaks. 
She throws upon a man so sweet a look, 
That it were able to raise one to a galliard ^ 
That lay in a dead palsy, and to dote 
On that sweet countenance ; but in that look 
There speaketh so divine a continence 
As cuts off all lascivious and vain hope. 

1 A lively Spanish dance. So Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, i, 3. 



SCENE 1.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 499 

Her days are practised in such noble virtue, 

That sure her nights, nay, more, her very sleeps, 

Are more in Heaven than other ladies' shrifts. 200 

Let all sweet ladies break their flattering glasses, 

And dress themselves in her. 

Delio. Fie, Antonio, 
You play the wire-drawer with her commendations. 

A7it. I'll case the picture up : only thus much ; 
All her particular worth grows to this sum, — 
She stains the time past, lights the time to come. 

Cai'i. You must attend my lady in the gallery, 
Some half an hour hence. 

Ant. I shall. \_Exetmt Antonio and Delio. 

Ferd. Sister, I have a suit to you. 

Duch. To me, sir? 

Fej'd. A gentleman here, Daniel de Bosola, 
One that was in the galle)^s — 

Duch. Yes, I know him. 210 

Ferd. A worthy fellow he is : pray, let me entreat for 
The provisorship of your horse. 

Duch. Your knowledge of him 
Commends him and prefers him. 

Ferd. Call him hither. {^Exit Attendant. 

We are now upon parting. Good Lord Silvio, 
Do us commend to all our noble friends 
At the leaguer. 

Silvio. Sir, I shall. 

Ferd. You are for Milan? 

Silvio. I am. 

Duch. Bring the caroches.^ We'll bring you down to the 
haven. 

1 Coaches (Italian carrozza). 



500 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act I. 

\_Exeunt Duchess, Silvio, Castruccio, Roderigo, 
Grisolan, Cariola, Julia, and Attendants. 

Caf'd. Be sure you entertain that Bosola 
For your intelligence : I would not be seen in't ; 
And therefore many times I have slighted him 220 

When he did court our furtherance,'^ as this morning. 

Fe7'-d. Antonio, the great-master of her household, 
Had been far fitter. 

Ca7d. You are deceived in him : 
His nature is too honest for such business. — 
He comes : I'll leave you. \_Exit. 

Re-enter Bosola. 

Bos. I was lured to you. 

Ferd. My brother, here, the cardinal could never 
Abide you. 

Bos. Never since he was in my debt. 

Ferd. May be some oblique character in your face 
Made him suspect you. 

Bos. Doth he study physiognomy? 
He did suspect me wrongfully. 

Ferd. For that 
You must give great men leave to take their times. 230 

Distrust doth cause us seldom be deceived : 
You see the oft shaking of the cedar-tree 
Fastens it more at root. 

Bos. Yet, take heed ; 
For to suspect a friend unworthily 
Instructs him the next way to suspect you, 
And prompts him to deceive you. 

Fe7'd. There's gold. 

Bos. So : 



THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 



501 



What follows ? never rained such showers as these 
Without thunderbolts i' the tail of them : whose throat must 
I cut? 

J^er^. Your incUnation to shed blood rides post 
Before my occasion to use you. I gave you that 240 

To live i' the court here, and observe the duchess ; 
To note all the particulars of her haviour, 
What suitors do solicit her for marriage, 
And whom she best affects. She's a young widow : 
I would not have her marry again. 

Bos. No, sir? 

J^erd. Do not you ask the reason ; but be satisfied 
I say I would not. 

Bos. It seems you would create me 
One of your famihars. 

Ferd. Familiar ! what's that ? 

Bos. Why, a very quaint invisible devil in flesh, 
An intelligencer. 

Berd. Such a kind of thriving thing 250 

I would wish thee ; and ere long thou mayest arrive 
At a higher place by't. 

Bos. Take your devils, 
Which hell calls angels ; these cursed gifts would make 
You a corrupter, me an impudent traitor ; 
And should I take these, they'd take me to hell. 

Berd. Sir, I'll take nothing from you that I have given : 
There is a place that I procured for you 
This morning, the provisorship o' the horse ; 
Have you heard on't? 

Bos. No. 

Berd. 'Tis yours : is't not worth thanks? 260 

Bos. I would have you curse yourself now, that your bounty 



502 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT i. 

(Which makes men truly noble) e'er should make me 
A villain. O, that to avoid ingratitude 
For the good deed you have done me, I must do 
All the ill man can invent ! Thus the devil 
Candies all sins o'er ; and what Heaven terms vile, 
That names he complimental.^ 

Ferd. Be yourself; 
Keep your old garb of melancholy ; 'twill express 
You envy those that stand above your reach, 
Yet strive not to come near 'em : this will gain 270 

Access to private lodgings, where yourself 
May, like a politic dormouse — 

Bos. As I have seen some 
Feed in a lord's dish, half asleep, not seeming 
To listen to any talk ; and yet these rogues 
Have cut his throat in a dream. What's my place ? 
The provisorship o' the horse ? I am your creature. 

Ferd. Away ! 

Bos. Let good men, for good deeds, covet good fame, 
Since place and riches oft are bribes of shame : 
Sometimes the devil doth preach. \_Exit. 

Re-enter Duchess, Cardinal, and Cariola. 

Card. We are to part from you ; and your own discretion 
Must now be your director. 

Ferd. You are a widow : 281 

You know already what man is ; and therefore 
Let not youth, high promotion, eloquence — 

Card. No, 
Nor any thing without the addition, honour. 
Sway your high blood. 

1 Ornamental. 



SCENE !.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 503 

Ferd. Marry ! they are most luxurious ^ 
Will wed twice. 

Card. O, fie ! 

Ferd. Their livers are more spotted 
Than Laban's sheep. 

Duck. Diamonds are of most value, 
They say, that have passed through most jewellers' hands. 
Will you hear me ? 290 

I'll never marry. 

Ca7'd. So most widows say ; 
But commonly that motion lasts no longer 
Than the turning of an hour-glass : the funeral sermon 
And it end both together. 

Fe7-d. Now hear me : 
You live in a rank pasture, here, i' the court ; 
There is a kind of honey-dew that's deadly ; 
'Twill poison your fame ; look to't : be not cunning; 
For they whose faces do belie their hearts 
Are witches ere they arrive at twenty years, 
Ay, and give the devil suck. 300 

Duck. This is terrible good counsel. 

Ferd. Hypocrisy is woven of a fine small thread, 
Subtler than Vulcan's engine^ : yet, beheve't. 
Your darkest actions, nay, your privat'st thoughts. 
Will come to light. 

Card. You may flatter yourself, 
And take your own choice ; privately be married 
Under the eaves of night — 

Ferd. Think't the best voyage 
That e'er you made ; like the irregular crab, 

1 Incontinent ; query uxorious ? 

2 The net in which he caught Mars and Venus. 



504 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act I. 

Which, though't goes backward, thinks that it goes right 
Because it goes its own way ; but observe. 
Such weddings may more properly be said 310 

To be executed than celebrated. 

Card. The marriage night 
Is the entrance into some prison. 

Ferd. And those joys. 
Those lustful pleasures, are like heavy sleeps 
Which do fore-run man's mischief. 

Card. Fare you w^ell. 
Wisdom begins at the end : remember it. \^Exit. 

Diich. I think this speech between you both was studied, 
It came so roundly off. 

Ferd. You are my sister ; 
This was my father's poniard, do you see ? 
I'd be loth to see't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his. 320 

I would have you give o'er those chargeable revels : 
A visor and a mask are whispering-rooms 
That were never built for goodness ; — fare ye well ; — 
And women hke variety of courtship : 
W^hat cannot a neat knave with a smooth tale 
•Make a woman believe ? Farewell, lusty widow. \_Exit. 

JDuch. Shall this move me ? If all my royal kindred 
Lay in my way unto this marriage, 
I'd make them my low footsteps : and even now, 
Even in this hate, as men in some great battles, 330 

By apprehending danger, have achieved 
Almost impossible actions (I have heard soldiers say so), 
So I through frights and threatenings will assay 
This dangerous venture. Let old wives report 
I winked and chose a husband. — Cariola, 
To thy known secrecy I have given up 



SCENE 1.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 505 

More than my life — my fame. 

Cari. Both shall be safe ; 
For I'll conceal this secret from the world 
As warily as those that trade in poison 
Keep poison from their children. 

Duch. Thy protestation 340 

Is ingenious ^ and hearty : I believe it. 
Is Antonio come ? 

Cari. He attends you. 

Duch. Good, dear soul, 
Leave me ; but place thyself behind the arras, 
Where thou mayst overhear us. Wish me good speed ; 
For I am going into a wilderness 
Where I shall find nor path nor friendly clue 
To be my guide. [Cariola goes behind the arras. 

Enter Antonio.^ 

I sent for you : sit down ; 
Take pen and ink, and write : are you ready ? 

Ant. Yes. 

Duch. What did I say? 

Ant. That I should write somewhat. 350 

Duch. O, I remember. 
After these triumphs and this large expense. 
It's fit, like thrifty husbands, we inquire 
What's laid up for to-morrow. 

Ant. So please your beauteous excellence. 

Duch. Beauteous ! 
Indeed, I thank you : I look young for your sake ; 

1 Ingenuous. 

2 "As previously Antonio has been told that he must attend the Duchess 
in the gallery, it would seem that here the audience were to imagine that a 
cliange of scene had taken place," — Dyce. 



5o6 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT I. 

You have ta'en my cares upon you. 

Ant. I'll fetch your grace 
The particulars of your revenue and expense. 

Duck. O, you are 
An upright treasurer : but you mistook ; 360 

For when I said I meant to make inquiry 
What's laid up for to-morrow, I did mean 
What's laid up yonder for me. 

Ant. Where? 

Duch. In Heaven. 
I am making my will (as 'tis fit princes should, 
In perfect memory), and, I pray, sir, tell me. 
Were not one better make it smiling, thus, 
Than in deep groans and terrible ghastly looks. 
As if the gifts we parted with procured 
That violent distraction ^ ? 

Ant. O, much better. 

Duch. If I had a husband now, this care were quit : 370 
But I intend to make you overseer. 
What good deed shall we first remember? say. 

Ant. Begin with that first good deed began i' the world 
After man's creation, the sacrament of marriage : 
I'd have you first provide for a good husband ; 
Give him all. 

Duch. All ! 

Ant. Yes, your excellent self. 

Duch. In a winding-sheet? 

Ant. In a couple. 

Duch. Saint Winifred,- that were a strange will ! 

1 The Quarto of 1640 has destruction. 

2 A noble British maiden of the seventh century. Prince Cradocus fell 
in love with her; but as she would not accept his suit, he cut off her head, 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 507 

A7if. 'Twere stranger if there were no will in you 
To marry again. 

Duck. What do you think of marriage ? 3S0 

Ant. I take't, as those that deny purgatory, 
It locally contains or Heaven or hell ; 
There's no third place in't. 

Duck. How do you affect it? 

Ant. My banishment, feeding my melancholy, 
Would often reason thus. 

Duck. Pray, let's hear it. 

Ant. Say a man never marry, nor have children, 
Wliat takes that from him ? only the bare name 
Of being a father, or the weak delight 
To see the little wanton ride a-cock-horse 
Upon a painted stick, or hear him chatter 390 

Like a taught starling. 

Duch. Fie, fie, what's all this? 
One of your eyes is blood-shot ; use my ring to't. 
They say 'tis very sovereign : 'twas my wedding-ring, 
And I did vow never to part with it 
But to my second husband. 

Ant. You have parted with it now. 

DiicJi. Yes, to help your eye-sight. 

Ant. You have made me stark blind. 

Duch. How? 

which rolled to the foot of a hill : stopping there, a spring gushed up. St. 
Bueno picked up the head, put it back on her shoulders : Winifred came to 
life, and lived fifteen years thereafter. The fame of her holiness spread : a 
shrine was built at the spring, and during many centuries that shrine, Holy- 
well, in Flintshire, was the resort of pilgrims. Her day in the Saints' Calen- 
dar is November 3. Her violent Jover Cradocus was swallowed up by the 
earth's opening immediately after he severed her head from its trunk. See 
Cha7nbers's Book of Days, ii, 6. 



5o8 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act I. 

Ant. There is a saucy and ambitious devil 
Is dancing in this circle. 

Duch. Remove him. 

Ant. How? 400 

Duch. There needs small conjuration, when your finger 
May do it : thus ; is it fit ? 

\_She puts the ring upon his finger : he kneels. 

Ant. What said you? 

Duch. Sir, 
This goodly roof of yours is too low built ; hB 

I cannot stand upright in't nor discourse, *^ 

Without I raise it higher : raise yourself; 
Or, if you please, my hand to help you : so. \^Raises him. 

Ant. Ambition, madam, is a great man's madness, 
That is not kept in chains and close-pent rooms. 
But in fair lightsome lodgings, and is girt 
With the wild noise of pratding visitants, 410 

Which makes it lunatic beyond all cure. 
Conceive not I am so stupid but I aim 
Whereto your favours tend : but he's a fool 
That, being a-cold, would thrust his hands i' the fire 
To warm them. 

Duch. So, now the ground's broke. 
You may discover what a wealthy mine 
I make you lord of. 

Ant. O my unworthiness ! 

Duch. You were ill to sell yourself: 
This darkening of your worth is not like that 
Which tradesmen use i' the city ; their false lights 420 

Are to rid bad wares of: and I must tell you, 
If you will know where breathes a complete man 
(I speak it without flattery), turn your eyes, 



THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 



509 



And progress through yourself. 

Anf. Were there nor Heaven nor hell, 
I should be honest : I have long served virtue, 
And ne'er ta'en wages of her. 

Duch. Now she pays it. 
The misery of us that are born great ! 
We are forced to woo, because none dare woo us ; 
And as a tyrant doubles with his words, 430 

And fearfully equivocates, so we 
Are forced to express our violent passions 
In riddles and in dreams, and leave the path 
Of simple virtue, which was never made 
To seem the thing it is not. Go, go brag 
You have left me heartless ; mine is in your bosom : 
I hope 'twill multiply love there. You do tremble : 
Make not your heart so dead a piece of flesh, 
To fear more than to love me. Sir, be confident : 
What is't distracts you? This is flesh and blood, sir ; 440 
'Tis not the figure cut in alabaster 
Kneels at my husband's tomb. Awake, awake, man ! 
I do here put off all vain ceremony. 
And only do appear to you a young widow 
That claims you for her husband, and, like a widow, 
I use but half a blush in't.^ 

A7it. Truth speak for me ; 
I will remain the constant sanctuary 
Of your good name. 

1 " The passion of the Duchess for Antonio, a subject most difficult to 
treat, is managed with infinite delicacy : in a situation of great peril for the 
author, she condescends without being degraded, declares to lier dependant 
that he is the husband of her choice without losing anything of dignity and 
respect, and seems only to exercise the privilege of rank in raising merit 



5IO THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act I. 

Duch. I thank you, gentle love : 
And 'cause you shall not come to me in debt, 
Being now my steward, here upon your lips 450 

I sign your Quietus est. This you should have begged now : 
I have seen children oft eat sweetmeats thus, 
As fearful to devour them too soon. 

Ant. But for your brothers ? 

Duch. Do not think of them : 
All discord without this circumference 
Is only to be pitied, and not feared : 
Yet, should they know it, time will easily 
Scatter the tempest. 

A7it. These words should be mine, 
x'Vnd all the parts you have spoke, if some part of it 
Would not have savoured flattery. 

Duch. Kneel. [Cariola comes fro7n behind the arras. 

Ant. Ha ! 460 

Duch. Be not amazed ; this woman's of my counsel : 
I have heard lawyers say, a contract in a chamber 
Per verba presenti is absolute marriage. 

\^She a?td Antonio kneel. 
Bless, Heaven, this sacred gordian, which let violence 
Never untwine ! 

Aftt. And may our sweet affections, like the spheres, 
Be still in motion ! 

Duch. Quickening, and make 
The like soft music ! 



from obscurity." — Dyce. It may be added that neither in the English Dra- 
ma nor in English Fiction shall we find a scene in which womanly dig- 
nity and womanly love are exhibited more naturally than in this. A noble 
woman, as Webster here depicts her, is neither the unreal, ethereal creature 
of the Age of Chivalry, nor is she the toy or servant of man. 



1 



SCENE I.J THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 5 II 

Ant That we may imitate the loving pahns/ 
Best emblem of a peaceful marriage, 470 

That never bore fruit, divided ! 

Duch. What can the church force more? 

A7it. That fortune may not know an accident, 
Either of joy or sorrow, to divide 
Our fixed wishes ! 

Duch. How can the church build faster? 
We now are man and wife, and 'tis the church 
That must but echo this. — Maid, stand apart : 
I now am blind. 

A7it. What's your conceit in this? 

Duch. I would have you lead your fortune by the hand 
Unto your marriage bed : 480 

(You speak in me this, for we now are one :) 
We'll only lie, and talk together, and plot 
To appease my humourous kindred ; and if you please, 
Like the old tale in Alexander and Lodowick,^ 
Lay a naked sword between us, keep us chaste. 
O, let me shrowd my blushes in your bosom, 
Since 'tis the treasury of all my secrets ! 

S^Exeunt Duchess and Antonio. 

1 Cf, T. Campbell, in his poem " The Dead Eagle." 

" The village planted near the Maraboot's 
Round roof has aye its feathery palm trees 
Pair'd, for in solitude they bear no fruits." 

2 " The Two Faithful Friends^ the pleasant History of Alexander and Lod- 
wicke, who were so like one another, that none could know them asunder ; 
wherein is declared how Lodwicke married the Princesse of Hungaria, in 
Alexander'' s name, and how each night he layd a naked sword betweene him 
and the Princesse, because he would not ivrong his friend, is reprinted from 
the Pepys collection in Evans's Old Ballads. There was also a play written 
by Martin Slaugliter, called Alexander and Lodowick, the acting of which is 
several times mentioned in Henslowe's Diary ; but it was never published." 
• — Dyce. 



512 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 

Cart. Whether the spirit of greatness or of woman 
Reign most in her, I know not ; but it shows 
A fearful madness : I owe her much of pity. [Exit. 490 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — Afi Apartment in the Palace of the Duchess. 

Enter Bosola and Castruccio. 

Bos. You say you would fain be taken for an eminent 
courtier ? 

Cast. 'Tis the very main of my ambition. 

Bos. Let me see : you have a reasonable good face for't 
already, and your night-cap expresses your ears sufficient 
largely. I would have you learn to twirl the strings of your 
band with a good grace, and in a set speech, at the end of 
every sentence, to hum three or four times, or blow your 
nose till it smart again, to recover your memory. When 
you come to be a president in criminal causes, if you smile 
upon a prisoner, hang him ; but if you frown upon him and 
threaten him, let him be sure to scape the gallows. 12 

Cast. I would be a very merry president. 

Bos. Do not sup o' nights ; 'twill beget you an admirable 
wit. 

Cast. Rather it would make me have a good stomach to 
quarrel ; for they say, your roaring boys ^ eat meat seldom, 
and that makes them so valiant. But how shall I know 
whether the people take me for an eminent fellow? 

Bos. I will teach you a trick to know it : give out you lie 

1 Cant term for insolent bullies and vaporers of the time. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 513 

a-dying, and if you hear the common people curse you, be 
sure you are taken for one of the prime night-caps.^ 22 

Enter an Old Lady. 

You come from painting now. 

Old Lady. From what ? 

Bos. Why, from your scurvy face-physic. To behold 
thee not painted inclines somewhat near a miracle ; these 
in thy face here were deep ruts and foul sloughs the last 
progress.- There was a lady in France that, having had the 
small-pox, flayed the skin off her face to make it more 
level ; and whereas before she looked like a nutmeg-grater, 
after she resembled an abortive hedgehog. 31 

0/d Lady. Do you call this painting ? 

Bos. No, no, but you call it careening ^ of an old mor- 
phewed"* lady to make her disembogue^ again: there's 
rough-cast phrase to your plastic.^ 

Old Lady. It seems you are well acquainted with my 
closet. 

Bos. One would suspect it for a shop of witchcraft, to 
find in it the fat of serpents, spawn of snakes, Jews' spittle, 
and their young children's ordure ; and all these for the 
fice. I would sooner eat a dead pigeon taken from the 
soles of the feet of one sick of the plague than kiss one of 
you fasting. Here are two of you, whose sin of your youth 

1 Another cant term, used by Webster in The Devil's Law Case, ii, i : — 

" Among a shoal or swarm of reeking night-caps." 

2 State journey of the English sovereign into the provinces. 

3 To lay a ship on its side, in order to calk and clean the hull. 

4 Morphew : a scurf or cutaneous disease on the face. 

5 Literally, flow into the sea (as a river). The meaning of the speech is : 
You old women paint your face and hide your wrinkles in order that you 
may launch out for new conquests. ^ Moulding. 



514 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT II. 

is the very patrimony of the physician ; makes him renew 

his foot-cloth ^ with the spring, and change his high-priced 

courtezan with the fall of the leaf. I do wonder you do 

not loathe yourselves. Observe my meditation now. 47 

What thing is in this outward form of man 

To be beloved? We account it ominous, 

If nature do produce a colt, or lamb, : 

A fawn or goat, in any limb resembling 

A man, and fly from't as a prodigy : 

Man stands amazed to see his deformity 

In any other creature but himself. 

But in our own flesh, though we bear diseases 

Which have their true names only ta'en from beasts, — ^S 

As the most ulcerous wolf and swinish measle, — ~ 

Though we are eaten up of lice and worms, 

And though continually we bear about us 

A rotten and dead body, we delight 60 

To hide it in rich tissue : all our fear. 

Nay, all our terror, is lest our physician 

Should put us in the ground to be made sweet. — 

Your wife's gone to Rome : you two couple, and get you to 

the wells at Lucca to recover your aches. I have other 

work on foot. \_Exeunt Castruccio a?id Old Lady. 

I observe our duchess 

Is sick a-days, she pukes, her stomach seethes, 

The fins of her eye-lids look most teeming blue, 

She wanes i' the cheek, and waxes fat i' the flank, 70 

And, contrary to our ItaHan fashion, 

Wears a loose-bodied gown : there's somewhat in't. 

I have a trick may chance discover it, 

A pretty one ; I have bought some apricocks,^ 

1 Enables him to buy new housings for his horse. 2 Apricots. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 515 

The first our spring yields. 

Enter Antonio and Delio. 

Delio. And so long since married ! 
You amaze me. 

A7it. Let me seal your lips for ever : 
For, did I think that any thing but the air 
Could carry these words from you, I should wish 
You had no breath at all. — Now, sir, in your contemplation? 
You are studying to become a great wise fellow. 80 

Bos. O, sir, the opinion of wisdom is a foul tetter that 
runs all over a man's body : ^ if simplicity direct us to have 
no evil, it directs us to a happy being ; for the subtlest 
folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom : let me be simply 
honest. 

Ajit, I do understand your inside. 

Bos. Do you so? 

Ant. Because you would not seem to appear to the world 
Puffed up with your preferment, you continue 
This out-of-fashion melancholy : leave it, leave it. 90 

Bos. Give me leave to be honest in any phrase, in any 
compliment whatsoever. Shall I confess myself to you? 
I look no higher than I can reach : they are the gods that 
must ride on winged horses. A lawyer's mule of a slow 
pace will both suit my disposition and business ; for, mark 
me, when a man's mind rides faster than his horse can 
gallop, they quickly both tire. 

Ant. You would look up to Heaven, but I think 
The devil, that rules i' the air, stands in your light. 99 

Bos. O, sir, you are lord of the ascendant, chief man 
with the duchess ; a duke was your cousin-german removed. 

1 Observe throughout how Bosola's images harmonize with his character. 



5l6 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. L^.iC ii. 

Say you are lineally descended from King Pepin, or he hin- 
self, what of this ? search the heads of the greatest rivers'n 
the world, you shall find them but bubbles of water. Som^ 
would think the souls of princes were brought forth ty 
some more weighty cause than those of meaner persons: 
they are deceived, there's the same hand to them ; the like 
passions sway them ; the same reason that makes a vicar to 
go to law for a tithe- pig, and undo his neighbours, makes 
them spoil a whole province, and batter down goodly cities 
with the cannon. m 

Enter Duchess and Ladies. 

Duch. Your arm, Antonio : do I not grow fat? 
I am exceeding short-winded. — Bosola, 
I would have you, sir, provide for me a litter ; 
Such a one as the Duchess of Florence rode in. 

Bos. The duchess used one when she was great with child. 

Duch. I think she did. — Come hither, mend my ruff; 
Here, when ^ ? thou art such a tedious lady ; and 
Thy breath smells of lemon-pills ; would thou hadst done ! 
Shall I swoon under thy fingers ! I am 120 

So troubled with the mother^ ! 

Bos. {aside). I fear too much. 

Duch. I have heard you say that the French courtiers 
Wear their hats on 'fore the king. 

A7it. I have seen it. 

Duch. In the presence? 

Ant, Yes. 

1 When, an exclamation of impatience. 

2 Hysterical passion ; so Lear, ii, 4 : — 

" O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! 
Hysterica passio, — down, thou climbing sorrow, 
Thy element's below ! " 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 5 i 7 

Duch. Why should not we bring up that fashion ? 
'Tis ceremony more than duty that consists 
In the removing of a piece of felt : 
Be you the example to the rest o' the court ; 
Put on your hat first. 

Ant. You must pardon me : 
I have seen, in colder countries than in France, 130 

Nobles stand bare to the prince ; and the distinction 
Methought showed reverently. 

Bos. I have a present for your grace. 

Duch. For me, sir? 

Bos. Apricocks, madam. 

Duch. O, sir, where are they? 
I have heard of none to-year.^ 

Bos. {aside). Good; her colour rises. 

Duch. Indeed, I thank you : they are wondrous fair ones. 
What an unskilful fellow is our gardener ! 
We shall have none this month. 

Bos. Will not your grace pare them? 140 

Duch. No : they taste of musk, methinks ; indeed they do. 

Bos. I know not : yet I wish your grace had pared 'em. 

Duch. Why? 

Bos. I forgot to tell you, the knave gardener, 
Only to raise his profit by them the sooner. 
Did ripen them in horse-dung. 

Duch. O, you jest. — 
You shall judge : pray taste one. 

Ajtf. Indeed, madam, 
I do not love the fruit. 

Duch. Sir, you are loth 
To rob us of our dainties : 'tis a deUcate fruit ; 

1 This year. 



5i8 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. \^ [act ii. 

They say they are restorative. 

Bos. 'Tis a pretty art, 150 

This grafting. 

Duch. 'Tis so ; bettering of nature. 

Bos. To make a pippin grow upon a crab, 
A damson on a blackthorn — {Aside) How greedily she eats 
them ! 

Duch. I thank you, Bosola : they are right good ones. 
If they do not make me sick. 

Ant. How now, madam ! 

Duch. This green fruit and my stomach are not friends : 
How they swell me ! 
O, I am in an extreme cold sweat ! 

Bos. I am very sorry. 

Duch. Lights to my chamber ! — O ^ood Antonio, 160 
I fear I am undone ! 

Delio. Lights there, lights ! 

\_Exeunt Duchess and Ladies. — Exif, on the 
other side, Bosola. 

Ant. O my most trusty Delio, we are lost ! 

Delio. Have you prepared 
Those ladies to attend her ? and procured 
That politic safe conveyance for the midwife 
Your duchess plotted ? 

Ant. I have. 

Delio. Make use, then, of this forced occasion : 
Give out that Bosola hath poisoned her 
AVith these apricocks ; that will give some colour 
For her keeping close. 

Ant. Fie, fie, the physicians 170 

Will then flock to her. 

Delio. For that you may pretend 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 519 

She'll use some prepared antidote of her own, 
Lest the physicians should re-poison her. 

Ant. I am lost in amazement : I know not what to think 
on't. \_Exeunt. 




Scene II. — A Hall in the same Palace. 

Enter Bosola. 

Bos. So, so, there's no question but her techiness ^ and 
most vulturous eating of the apricocks are apparent signs 
of breeding. — Now ? 

Enter an Old Lady. 

Old Lady. I am in haste, sir. 

Bos. There was a young waiting-woman had a monstrous 
desire to see the glass-house — 

Old Lady. I will hear no more of the glass-house. You 
are still abusing women ? 8 

Bos. Who, I ? no ; only, by the way now and then, men- 
tion your frailties. The orange-tree bears ripe and green 
fruit and blossoms all together ; and some of you give enter- 
tainment for pure love, but more for more precious reward. 
The lusty spring smells well ; but drooping autumn tastes 
well. If we have the same golden showers that rained in 
the time of Jupiter the thunderer, you have the same Danaes 
still, to hold up their laps to receive them. Didst thou never 
study the mathematics? 

Old Lady. What's that, sir? 18 

Bos. Why to know the trick how to make a many lines 

1 Fretfulness, peevishness ; from the Middle English tecche, tache, a habit ; 
hence a bad habit, vice, freak. Cf. French tache. 



/^ 



520 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT ii. 

meet in one centre. Go, go, give your foster-daughters good I 
counsel : tell them, that the devil takes delight to hang at a ' 
woman's girdle, like a false rusty watch, that she cannot dis- 
cern how the time passes. \_Exit Old Lady. 

Enter Antonio, Roderigo, a^id Grisolan. 

Ant. Shut up the court-gates. 
Rod. Why, sir? what's the danger? 

Ant. Shut up the posterns presently, and call * 

All the officers o' the court. 

Gris. I shall instantly. \Exit 

Ant. Who keeps the key o' the park-gate ? ^1 

Rod. Forobosco. 30 

Ant. Let him bring't presently. 

Re-enter Grisolan with Servants. 

1st Serv. O, gentlemen o' the court, the foulest treason ! 

Bos. {aside). If that these apricocks should be poisoned 
now. 
Without my knowledge ! 

1st Serv. There was taken even now a Switzer in the 
duchess' bed chamber — 

2d Serv. A Switzer ! 

1st Seiu. With a pistol. 

Bos. Ha, ha, ha ! 

2d Sei V. There was a cunning traitor ! 40 

1st Serv. And all the moulds of his buttons were leaden 
bullets. 

2d Serv. O wicked cannibal ! 

1st Serv. 'Twas a French plot, upon my life. 

2d Serv. To see what the devil can do ! 

Ant. Are all the officers here? 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 521 

Servants. We are. 

Ant. Gentlemen, 
We have lost much plate you know ; and but this evening 
Jewels, to the value of four thousand ducats, 
Are missing in the duchess' cabinet. 50 

Are the gates shut? 

Serv. Yes. 

Ant. 'Tis the duchess' pleasure 
Each officer be locked into his chamber 
Till the sun-rising ; and to send the keys 
Of all their chests and of their outward doors 
Into her bed-chamber. She is very sick. 

Rod. At her pleasure. 

Ant. She entreats you to tak't not ill : the innocent 
Shall be the more approved by it. 60 

Bos. Gentlemen o' the wood-yard, where's your Switzer 
now? 

1st Serv. By this hand, 'twas credibly reported by one o' 
the black guard. ^ \_Exeunt all except Antonio and Delio. 

Delio. How fares it with the duchess ? 

Ant. She's exposed 
Unto the worst of torture, pain and fear. 

Delio. Speak to her all happy comfort. 

Ant. How I do play the fool with mine own danger ! 
You are this night, dear friend, to post to Rome : 
My life lies in your service. 

Delio. Do not doubt me. 7° 

Ant. O, 'tis far from me : and yet fear presents me 
Somewhat that looks like danger. 

1 " The meanest drudges in royal residences and great houses, who rode 
in the vehicles which carried the furniture and domestic utensils from man- 
sion to mansion." — Dycc. 



522 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 

Delio. Believe it, 
'Tis but the shadow of your fear, no more : 
How superstitiously we mind our evils ! 
The throwing down salt, or crossing of a hare, 
Bleeding at nose, the stumbling of a horse. 
Or singing of a cricket, are of power 
To daunt [the] whole man in us. Sir, fare you well : 
I wish you all the joys of a blessed father : 
And, for my faith, lay this unto your breast, — 80 

Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. \^Exit. 

Enter Cariola. 

Cari. Sir, you are the happy father of a son : 
Your wife commends him to you. 

Ant. Blessed comfort ! — 
For Heaven's sake tend her well : I'll presently 
Go set a figure for's nativity.^ \_Exeunt. 

Scene HI. — The Court of the same Palace. 

Enter Bosola, with a dark lantern. 

Bos. Sure I did hear a woman shriek : list, ha ! 
And the sound came, if I received it right, 
From the duchess' lodgings. There's some stratagem 
In the confining all our courtiers 
To their several wards : I must have part of it ; 
My intelligence will freeze else. List, again ! 
It may be 'twas the melancholy bird, 
Best friend of silence and of soHtariness, 
The owl, that screamed so. — Ha ! Antonio ! 

1 Make out his horoscope. 



SCENE III.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 523 

Enter Antonio. 

Ant. I heard some noise. — Who's there? What art 
thou? speak. 10 

Bos. Antonio, put not your face nor body 
To such a forced expression of fear : 
I am Bosola, your friend. 

Ant. Bosola ! — 
i^Aside) This mole does undermine me. — Heard you not 
A noise even now? 

Bos. From whence? 

Ant. From the duchess' lodging. 

Bos. Not I : did you? 

Ant. I did, or else I dreamed. 

Bos. Let's walk towards it. 

Ant. No : it may be 'twas 
But the rising of the wind. 

Bos. Very likely. 
Methinks 'tis very cold, and yet you sweat : 
You look wildly. 

Ant. I have been setting a figure 
For the duchess' jewels. 20 

Bos. Ah, and how falls your question? 
Do you find it radical? 

Ant. What's that to you? 
'Tis rather to be questioned what design. 
When all men were commanded to their lodgings, 
Makes you a night-walker. 

Bos. In sooth, Fll tell you : 
Now all the court's asleep, I thought the devil 
Had least to do here ; I came to say my prayers ; 
And if it do offend you I do so, 



524 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 

You are a fine courtier. 

Ant. {aside). This fellow will undo me. — 
You gave the duchess apricocks to-day : 30 

Pray Heaven they were not poisoned ! 

Bos. Poisoned ! A Spanish fig 
For the imputation. 

Ant. Traitors are ever confident 
Till they are discovered. There were jewels stol'n too : 
In my conceit none are to be suspected 
More than yourself. 

Bos. You are a false steward. 

Ant. Saucy slave, I'll pull thee up by the roots. 

Bos. Maybe the ruin will crush you to pieces. 

Ant. You are an impudent snake indeed, sir : 40 

Are you scarce warm, and do you show your sting ? 
You libel w^ell, sir. 

Bos. No, sir : copy it out. 
And I will set my hand to't. 

Afit. {aside). My nose bleeds. 
One that were superstitious would count 
This ominous, when it merely comes by chance : 
Two letters that are wrote here for my name. 
Are drowned in blood ! 

Mere accident. — For you, sir, I'll take order 
r the morn you shall be safe : — {aside) 'tis that must 

colour 
Her lying-in : — sir, this door you pass not : 50 

I do not hold it fit that you come near 
The duchess' lodgings, till you have quit yourself. — 
{Aside) The great are like the base, nay, they are the same, 
When they seek shameful ways to avoid shame. \_Exit. 

Bos. Antonio hereabouts did drop a paper : — 



SCENE III.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 525 

Some of your help, false friend : — O, here it is. 
What's here? a child's nativity calculated ! \^Reads. 

" The duchess was delivered of a son, 'tween the hours 
twelve and one in the night, Anno Dam. 1504," — that's 
this year — ^' decuno nono Decembris^'' — that's this night, — 
"■ taken according to the meridian of Malfi," — that's our 
duchess: happy discovery ! — "The lord of the first house 
being combust ^ in the ascendant, signifies short life ; and 
Mars being in a human sign, joined to the tail of the 
Dragon, in the eighth house, doth threaten a violent death. 
Ccefera non scrufanti/ry 65 

Why, now 'tis most apparent : this precise fellow 
Is the duchess' bawd : — I have it to my wish ! 
This is a parcel of intelligency 

Our courtiers were cased up for : it needs must follow 
That I must be committed on pretence 
Of poisoning her ; which I'll endure, and laugh at. 
If one could find the father now ! but that 
Time will discover. Old Castruccio 
I' the morning posts to Rome : by him I'll send 
A letter that shall make her brothers' galls 75 

O'erflow their livers. This was a thrifty way. 
Though lust do mask in ne'er so strange disguise, 
She's oft found witty, but is never wise. \_Exit. 

1 Astrological term, used of a heavenly body not above eight and one- 
half degrees distant from the sun. 



526 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT II. 

Scene IV. — An Apartment in the Palace of the Cardinal at 
Rome. 

Efiter Cardinal and Julia. 

Card. Sit : thou art my best of wishes. Prithee, tell me 
What trick didst thou invent to come to Rome 
Without thy husband. 

Jidia. Why, my lord, I told him I 

I came to visit an old anchorite 
Here for devotion. 

Ca?'d. Thou art a witty false one, — 
I mean, to him. 

Julia. You have prevailed with me 
Beyond my strongest thoughts : I would not now 
Find you inconstant. 

Card. Do not put thyself 
To such a voluntary torture, which proceeds 
Out of your own guilt. 

Julia. How, my lord ! 

Card. You fear 1 

My constancy, because you have approved 
Those giddy and wild turnings in yourself. 
Julia. Did you e'er find them? 

Card. Sooth, generally for women, 
A man might strive to make glass malleable. 
Ere he should make them fixed. 
Julia. So, my lord. 

Card. We had need go borrow that fantastic glass ^ 
Invented by Galileo the Florentine 
To view another spacious world i' the moon, 

1 Another anachronism ; the telescope was not invented until about 1608. 



SCENE IV.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 527 

And look to find a constant woman there. 20 

Julia. This is very well, my lord. 
Card. Why do you weep? 
Are tears your ju^t fuation? the self-same tears 
Will fall into your husband's bosom, lady, 
With a loud protestation that you love him 
Above the world. Come, I'll love you wisely, 
That's jealously. 

Julia. I'll go home 
To my husband. 

Card. You may thank me, lady, 
I have taken you off your melancholy perch, 
Bore you upon my fist, and showed you game, 
And let you fly at it. — I pray thee, kiss me. — 30 

Wlien thou wast with thy husband, thou wast watched 
Like a tame elephant : — still you are to thank me : — 
Thou hadst only kisses from him and high feeding ; 
But what delight was that? 'twas just like one 
That hath a little fingering on the lute, 
Yet cannot tune it : — still you are to thank me. 

Julia. You told me of a piteous wound i' the heart 
And a sick liver, when you wooed me first. 
And spake like one in physic. 
Card. Who's that? — 

Enter Servant. 

Rest firm, for my affection to thee, 40 

Lightning moves slow to't. 

Serv. Madam, a gentleman. 
That's come post from Malfi, desires to see you. 

Card. Let him enter : I'll withdraw. \_Exit 

SerzK He says 



528 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act II. 

Your husband, old Castruccio, is come to Rome, 

Most pitifully tired with riding post. \^Exit. 

Enter Delio. 

Julia {aside) . Signior Delio ! 'tis one of my old suitors. 

Delio. I was bold to come and see you. 

Julia. Sir, you are welcome. 

Delio. Do you lie here ? 

Julia. Sure, your own experience * 50 

Will satisfy you no : our Roman prelates 
Do not keep lodging for ladies. 

Delio. Very well : 
I have brought you no commendations from your husband. 
For I know none by him.^ 

Julia. I hear he's come to Rome. 

Delio. I never knew man and beast, of a horse and a 
knight 
So weary of each other : if he had had a good back. 
He would have undertook to have borne his horse, 
His breech was so pitifully sore. 

Julia. Your laughter 
Is my pity. 

Delio. Lady, I know not whether 
You want money, but I have brought you some. 60 

Julia. From my husband ? 

Delio. No, from mine own allowance. 

Julia. I must hear the condition, ere I be bound to take it. 

Delio. Look on't, 'tis gold : hath it not a fine colour ? 

Julia. I have a bird more beautiful. 

1 Following the old quartos, here and later in this scene, the lines are 
printed metrically, although, as Dyce remarks, " some of these speeches 
hardly read like verse."' 



THE DUCHESS OF MALFl. 



529 



Delio. Try the sound on't. 

Julia. A lute string far exceeds it : 
It hath no smell, like cassia or civet ; 
Nor is it physical, though some fond doctors 
Persuade us seethe't in cullises^ ; I'll tell you, 70 

This is a creature bred by — 

Re-enter Servant. 

Serv. Your husband's come, 
Hath delivered a letter to the Duke of Calabria 
That, to my thinking, hath put him out of his wits. \_Exit. 

Julia. Sir, you hear : 
Pray, let me know your business and your suit 
As briefly as can be. 

Delio. With good speed : I would wish you, 
At such time as you are non-resident 
With your husband, my mistress. 

Julia. Sir, I'll go ask my husband if I shall, 
And straight return your answer. \_Exit. 

Delio. Very fine ! 
Is this her wit, or honesty, that speaks thus ? 
I heard one say the duke was highly moved 
With a letter sent from Malfi. I do fear 
Antonio is betrayed : how fearfully 
Shows his ambition now ! unfortunate fortune ! 
They pass through whirlpools, and deep woes do shun. 
Who the event weigh ere the action's done. \_Exit. 

1 "A cullis was a strong and savory broth of boiled meat strained, for 
debilitated persons : the old receipt-books recommend ' pieces of gold ' 
among its ingredients." — Dyce. 



530 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ii. 

Scene V. — A?iother Apartment iti the same Palace. 
Enter Cardinal, and Ferdinand with a letter. 

Ferd. I have this night digged up a mandrake. 

Card. Say you ? 

Ferd. And I am grown mad with't.^ 

Card. What's the prodigy? 

Ferd. Read there, — a sister dammed : she's loose i' the 
hilts ; 
Grown a notorious strumpet. 

Card. Speak lower. 

Ferd. Lower ! 
Rogues do not whisper't now, but seek to publish 't 
(As servants do the bounty of their lords) 
Aloud ; and with a covetous searching eye, 
To mark who note them. O, confusion seize her ! 
She hath had most cunning bawds to serve her turn. 
And more secure conveyances for lust lo 

Than towns of garrison for service. 

Card. Is't possible ? 
Can this be certain ? 

Ferd. Rhubarb, O, for rhubarb 
To purge this choler ! here's the cursed day 
To prompt my memory ; and here't shall stick 
Till of her bleeding heart I make a sponge 
To wipe it out. 

Card. Why do you make yourself 
So wild a tempest? 

1 Cf. Romeo and "JuHet, iv, 3 : — 

" And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, 
That living mortals hearing them run mad." 



SCENE v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 531 

Ferd. Would I could be one, 
That I might toss her palace 'bout her ears, 
Root up her goodly forests, blast her meads. 
And lay her general territory as waste 
As she hath done her honours. 

Card. Shall our blood, 20 

The royal blood of Arragon and Castile, 
Be thus attainted ? 

Ferd. Apply desperate physic : 
We must not now use balsamum, but fire. 
The smarting cupping-glass, for that's the mean 
To purge infected blood, such blood as hers. 
There is a kind of pity in mine eye, — 
I'll give it to my handkercher ; and now 'tis here, 
I'll bequeath this to her bastard. 

Card. What to do ? 

Ferd. Why, to make soft lint for his mother's wounds, 
When I have hewed her to pieces. 

Card. Cursed creature ! 30 

Unequal nature, to place women's hearts 
So far upon the left side ! 

Ferd. Foolish men, 
That e'er will trust their honour in a bark 
Made of so slight weak bulrush as is woman, 
Apt every minute to sink it ! 

Card. Thus 
Ignorance, when it hath purchased honour, 
It cannot wield it. 

Ferd. Methinks I see her laughing — 
Excellent hyena ! Talk to me somewhat quickly. 
Or my imagination will carry me 
To see her in the shameful act of sin. 40 



532 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act II. 

Card. How idly shows this rage, which carries you, 
As men conveyed by witches through the air, 
On violent whirlwinds ! this intemperate noise 
Fitly resembles deaf men's shrill discourse, 
Who talk aloud, thinking all other men 
To have their imperfection. 

Ferd. Have not you 
My palsy ? 

Card. Yes, but I can be angry 
Without this rupture ^ : there is not in nature 
A thing that makes man so deformed, so beastly. 
As doth intemperate anger. Chide yourself. 50 

You have divers men who never yet expressed 
Their strong desire of rest but by unrest. 
By vexing of themselves. Come, put yourself 
In tune. 

Ferd. So I will only study to seem 
The thing I am not. I could kill her now, 
Jn you, or in myself; for I do think 
It is some sin in us Heaven doth revenge 
By her. 

Card. Are you stark mad ? 

Ferd. I would have their bodies 
Burnt in a coal-pit with the ventage stopped. 
That their cursed smoke might not ascend to Heaven ; 60 
Or dip the sheets they lie in in pitch or sulphur, 
Wrap them in't, and then light them like a match ! 

Card. I'll leave you. 

Ferd. Nay, I have done. 
I am confident, had I been damned in hell. 
And should have heard of this, it would have put me 
1 Dyce suggests rapture. 



1 
I 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 533 

Into a cold sweat. In, in ; I'll go sleep. 

Till I know who wrongs my sister, I'll not stir : 

That known, I'll find scorpions to string my whips, 

And fix her in a general ecHpse. \_Excunt, 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — An Apartment in the Palace of the Duchess. 

Enter Antonio and Delio. 

Ant. Our noble friend, my most beloved Delio ! 
O, you have been a stranger long at court ; 
Came you along with the Lord Ferdinand ? 

Delio. I did, sir : and how fares your noble duchess ? 

A7it. Right fortunately well : she's an excellent 
Feeder of pedigrees ; since you last saw her. 
She hath had two children more, a son and daughter. 

Velio. Methinks 'twas yesterday : let me but wink, 
And not behold your face, which to mine eye 
Is somewhat leaner, verily I should dream 
It were within this half hour. 

A7it. You have not been in law, friend Delio, 
Nor in prison, nor a suitor at the court. 
Nor begged the reversion of some great man's place, 
Nor troubled with an old wife, which doth make 
Your time so insensibly hasten. 

Velio. Pray, sir, tell me. 
Hath not this news arrived yet to the ear 
Of the lord cardinal? 



534 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act III. 

Afit. I fear it hath : 
The Lord Ferdinand, that's newly come to court, 20 

Doth bear himself right dangerously. 

Velio. Pray, why? 

Ant. He is so quiet that he seems to sleep 
The tempest out, as dormice do in winter : 
Those houses that are haunted are most still 
Till the devil be up. 

Delia. What say the common people ? 

Ant. The common rabble do directly say 
She is a strumpet. 

Delia. And your graver heads 
Which would be politic, what censure they ? 

Ant. They do observe I grow to infinite purchase,^ 30 
The left hand way, and all suppose the duchess 
Would amend it, if she could ; for, say they. 
Great princes, though they grudge their officers 
Should have such large and unconfined means 
To get wealth under them, will not complain. 
Lest thereby they should make them odious 
Unto the people ; for other obligation 
Of love or marriage between her and me 
They never dream of. 

Delia. The Lord Ferdinand 
Is going to bed. 

Enter DucHESS, Ferdinand, and Attendants. 

Ferd. I'll instantly to bed, 40 

For I am weary. — I am to bespeak 
A husband for you. 

Diich. For me, sir ! pray, who is't? 

1 Cant term for stolen goods ; here means riches, property. 



SCENE ].] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 535 

Ferd. The great Count Malatesti. 

Duch. Fie upon him ! 
A count ! he's a mere stick of sugar-candy ; 
You may look quite through him. When I choose 
A husband, I will marry for your honour. 

Ferd. You shall do well in't. — How is't, worthy Antonio ? 

Duch. But, sir, I am to have private conference with you 
About a scandalous report is spread 
Touching mine honour. 

Ferd. Let me be ever deaf to't : 50 

One of Pasquil's ^ paper bullets, court-calumny, 
A pestilent air, which princes' palaces 
Are seldom purged cf. Yet say that it were true, 
I pour it in your bosom, my fixed love 
Would strongly excuse, extenuate, nay, deny 
Faults, were they apparent in you. Go, be safe 
In your own innocency. 

Duch. {aside). O blessed comfort ! 
This deadly air is purged. 

\_Exeu?it Duchess, Antonio, Delio, ^;/^/ Attendants. 

Ferd. Her guilt treads on 
Hot-burning coulters. 

Enter Bosola. 
Now, Bosola, 

1 " A Roman cobbler of the latter half of the fifteenth century, whose 
shop stood near the Braschi palace, near the Piazza Navona. He was 
notorious for caustic remarks, and gradually every bitter saying became 
attributed to him or his Avorkmen. After his death, a mutilated statue was 
dug out and set up near his shop, upon which the populace declared that 
Pasquin has come to life again. Then the custom arose of attaching to the 
torso stinging epigrams or satirical verses {pasquinades) often directed 
against the Pope and cardinals, and no prohibition nor penalty could put a 
Stop to the practice." — Wheeler, Noted Natnes of Fiction. 



536 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ill. 

How thrives our intelligence ? 

Bos. Sir, uncertainly : 60 

'Tis rumoured she hath had three bastards, but 
By whom we may go read i' the stars. 

Ferd. Why, some 
Hold opinion all things are written there. 

Bos. Yes, if we could find spectacles to read them. 
I do suspect there hath been some sorcery 
Used on the duchess. 

Ferd. Sorcery ! to what purpose ? 

Bos. To make her dote on some desertless fellow 
She shames to acknowledge. 

Ferd. Can your faith give way 
To think there's power in potions or in charms. 
To make us love whether we will or no ? 70 

Bos. Most certainly. 

Ferd. Away ! these are mere gulleries,^ horrid things, 
Invented by some cheating mountebanks 
To abuse us. Do you think that herbs or charms 
Can force the will? Some trials have been made 
In this foolish practice, but the ingredients 
Were lenitive poisons, such as are of force 
To make the patient mad ; and straight the witch 
Swears by equivocation they are in love. 
The witchcraft lies in her rank blood. This night 80 

I will force confession from her. You told me 
You had got, within these two days, a false key 
Into her bed-chamber. 

Bos. I have. 

Ferd. As I would wish. 

Bos. What do you intend to do ? 

1 Impostures. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 537 

Ferd. Can you guess? 
Bos. No. 

Ferd. Do not ask, then : 
He that can compass me, and know my drifts, 
May say he hath put a girdle 'bout the world/ 
And sounded all her quicksands. 

Bos. I do not 
Think so. 90 

Ferd. What do you think, then, pray? 
Bos. That you are 
Your own chronicle too much, and grossly 
Flatter yourself. 

Ferd. Give me thy hand ; I thank thee : 
I never gave pension but to flatterers. 
Till I entertained thee. Farewell. 
That friend a great man's ruiji strongly checks, 
Who rails into his belief all his defects. \_Exeiint. 



Scene II.— 7%^ Bed-chamber of the Duchess. 

Enter Duchess, Antonio, and Cariola. 

Diich. {to Cari.). Bring me the casket hither, and the 
glass. — 
You get no lodging here to-night, my lord. 
Atit. Indeed, I. must persuade one. 

Duch. I'll stop your mouth. \_Kisses htm. 

Ant. Nay, that's but one ; Venus had two soft doves 
To draw her chariot ; I must have another — 

[She kisses him again. 
1 Cf. Midsummer- Night's Dream, ii, 2 : — 

" I'll put a girdle round about the earth 
In forty minutes." 



538 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 

When wilt thou marry, Cariola? 

Caii. Never, my lord. 

Ant. O, fie upon this single Hfe ! forego it. 
We read how Daphne, for her peevish^ flight. 
Became a fruitless bay-tree ; Syrinx- turned lo 

To the pale empty reed; Anaxarete^ 
Was frozen into marble : whereas those 
Which married, or proved kind unto their friends. 
Were by a gracious influence transhaped 
Into the olive, pomegranate, mulberry. 
Became flowers, precious stones, or eminent stars. 

Cari. This is a vain poetry : but I pray you tell me. 
If there were proposed me, wisdom, riches, and beauty, 
In three several young men, which should I choose. 

Ant. 'Tis a hard question : this was Paris' case, 20 

And he was blind in't, and there was great cause ; 
For how was't possible he could judge right, 
Having three amorous goddesses in view, 
And they stark naked ? 'twas a motion 
Were able to benight the apprehension 
Of the severest counsellor of Europe. 
Now I look on both your faces so well formed, 
It puts me in mind of a question I would ask. 

Cari. What is't ? 

Ant. I do wonder why hard-favoured ladies. 
For the most part, keep worse-favoured waiting-women 
To attend them, and cannot endure fair ones. 31 

1 Foolish. 

2 " An Arcadian nymph, who being pursued by Pan, fled into the river 
Ladon, and at her own prayer was metamorphosed into a reed, of which 
Pan then made his flute." — Smith's Classical Diet. 

3 A Cyprian maid, whose lover, Iphis, hung himself in despair at her 
door. Venus turned her into a statue. 



SCENE n.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 539 

Duck. O, that's soon answered. 
Did you ever in your life know an ill painter 
Desire to have his dwelling next door to the shop 
Of an excellent picture-maker ? 'twould disgrace 
His face-making, and undo him. I prithee, 
When were we so merry ? — My hair tangles. 

Ant. {aside to Cari^. Pray thee, Cariola, let's steal forth 
the room, 
And let her talk to herself: I have divers times 
Served her the like, when she hath chafed extremely. 40 

I love to see her angry. Sofdy, Cariola. 

\_Exeunt Antonio a7id Cariola. 

Duch. Doth not the colour of my hair 'gin to change ? 
When I wax gray, I shall have all the court 
Powder their hair with orris to be like me. 
You have cause to love me ; I entered you into my heart 
Before you would vouchsafe to call for the keys. 

Ente?^ Ferdinand behind. 

We shall one day have my brothers take you napping ; 

Methinks his presence, being now in court. 

Should make you keep your own bed ; but you'll say 

Love mixed with fear is sweetest. 50 

Have you lost your tongue ? 'Tis welcome : 

For know, whether I am doomed to live or die, 

I can do both like a prince. 

Ferd. Die, then, quickly ! [ Giving her a poniard. 

Virtue, where art thou hid ? what hideous thing 
Is it that doth eclipse thee ? 

Duch. Pray, sir, hear me. 

Ferd. Or is it true thou art but a bare name. 
And no essential thing? 



540 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 

Duck. Sir, — 

Ferd. Do not speak. 

Duch. No, sir : 
I will plant my soul in mine ears, to hear you. 

Ferd. O most imperfect light of human reason, 
That mak'st us so unhappy to foresee 60 

What we can least prevent ! Pursue thy wishes, 
And glory in them : there's in shame no comfort 
But to be past all bounds and sense of shame. 

Duch. I pray, sir, hear me : I am married. 

Fe7'd. So ! i 

Duch. Happily, not to your liking : but for that, % 

Alas, your shears do come untimely now 
To clip the bird's wing that's already flown ! 
Will you see my husband ? 

Fej'd. Yes, if I could change ' 
Eyes with a basilisk. 

Duch. Sure, you came hither 
By his confederacy, 

Ferd. The howling of a wolf 
Is music to thee, screech-owl : prithee, peace. — 70 

Whate'er thou art that hast enjoyed my sister. 
For I am sure thou hear'st me, for thine own sake 
Let me not know thee. I canie hither prepared 
To work thy discovery ; yet am now persuaded 
It would beget such violent effects 
As would damn us both. I would not for ten millions 
I had beheld thee : therefore use all means 
I never may have knowledge of thy name ; 
Enjoy thy lust still, and a wretched life, 
On that condition. — And for thee, vile woman, 80 

I would have thee build 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 541 

Such a room for him as our anchorites 
To hoher use inhabit. Let not the sun 
Shine on him till he's dead ; let dogs and monkeys 
Only converse with him, and such dumb things 
To whom nature denies use to sound his name ; 
Do not keep a paraquito, lest she learn it ; 
If thou do love him, cut out thine own tongue, 
Lest it bewray him. 

Duck. Why might not I marry? 
I have not gone about in this to create 90 

Any new world or custom. 

Ferd. Thou art undone : 
And thou hast ta'en that massy sheet of lead 
That hid thy husband's bones, and folded it 
About my heart. 

Duch. Mine bleeds for't. 

Ferd. Thine ! thy heart ! 
What should I name't unless a hollow bullet 
Filled with unquenchable wild-fire ? 

Duch. You are in this 
Too strict ; and were you not my princely brother, 
I would say, too wilful : my reputation 
Is safe. 

Ferd. Dost thou know what reputation is ? 
I'll tell thee, — to small purpose, since the instruction 100 
Comes now too late. 

Upon a time Reputation, Love, and Death, 
Would travel o'er the world ; and it was concluded 
That they should part, and take three several ways. 
Death told them, they should find him in great batdes, 
Or cities plagued with plagues : Love gives them counsel 
To inquire for him 'mongst unambitious shepherds, 



542 THE DUCHESS OF MALFL [act hi. 

Where dowries were not talked of, and sometimes 

'Mongst quiet kindred that had nothing left 

By their dead parents : " Stay," quoth Reputation, no 

" Do not forsake me ; for it is my nature. 

If once I part from any man I meet, 

I am never found again," And so for you : 

You have shook hands with Reputation, 

And made him invisible. So, fare you well : 

I will never see you more. 

Duch. Why should only I, 
Of all the other princes of the world, 
Be cased up, like a holy relic ? I have youth 
And a little beauty. 

Ferd. So you have some virgins 
That are witches. I will never see thee more. \^Exit. 120 

Re-enter Antonio with a pistol, and Cariola. 

Duch. You saw this apparition? 

Ajit. Yes : we are 
Betrayed. How came he hither ? I should turn 
This to thee, for that. 

Ca7'i. Pray, sir, do ; and when 
That you have cleft my heart, you shall read there 
Mine innocence. 

Duch. That gallery gave him entrance. 

Ant. I would this terrible thing would come again, 
That, standing on my guard, I might relate 
My warrantable love. — \_She shows the poniard. 

Ha ! what means this ? 

Duch. He left this with me. 

Ant. And it seems did wish 130 

You would use it on yourself. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 543 

Dicch. His action " 

Seemed to intend so much. 

Ant. This hath a handle to't, 
As well as a point : turn it towards him, 
And so fasten the keen edge in his rank gall. 

\_Knocki?ig within. 
How now ! who knocks ? more earthquakes ? 

Duck. I stand 
As if a mine beneath my feet were ready 
To be blown up. 

Cari. 'Tis Bosola, 

Duch. Away ! 
O misery ! methinks unjust actions 

Should wear these masks and curtains, and not we. 139 

You must instantly part hence : I have fashioned it already. 

\_Exit Antonio. 
Enter Bosola. 

Bos. The duke your brother is ta'en up in a whirlwind, 
Hath took horse, and's rid post to Rome. 

Duch. So late? 

Bos. He told me, as he mounted into the saddle, 
You were undone. 

Duch. Indeed, I am very near it. 

Bos. What's the matter? 

Duch. x\ntonio, the master of our household, 
Hath dealt so falsely with me in's accounts : 
My brother stood engaged with me for money 
Ta'en up of certain Neapolitan Jews, 
And Antonio lets the bonds be forfeit. 150 

Bos. Strange ! — {Aside) This is cunning. 

Duch. And hereupon 



i 



544 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act hi. 

My brother's bills at Naples are protested 
Against. — Call up our officers. 

Bos. I shall. [Exi/. 

Re-enter Antonio. 

Duch. The place that you must fly to is Ancona : 
Hire a house there ; I'll send after you 
My treasure and my jewels. Our weak safety 
Runs upon enginous^ wheels : short syllables 
Must stand for periods. I must now accuse you 
Of such a feigned crime as Tasso calls 

Magnanima menzogna^ a noble lie, i6o 

'Cause it must shield our honours. — Hark ! they are coming. 

Re-enter Bosola and Officers. 

Ant. Will your grace hear me ? 

Duch. I have got well by you ; you have yielded me 
A million of loss : I am like to inherit 
The people's curses for your stewardship. 
You had the trick in audit-time to be sick, 
Till I had signed your quietus ; and that cured you 
Without help of a doctor. — Gentlemen, 
I would have this man be an example to you all ; 
So shall you hold my favour ; I pray, let him ; 170 

For h'as done that, alas, you would not think of, 
And, because I intend to be rid of him, 
I mean not to publish. — Use your fortune elsewhere. 

Ant. I am strongly armed to brook my overthrow, 
As commonly men bear with a hard year : 
I will not blame the cause on't ; but do think 

1 The Quarto of 1640 has ingenious. 

2 See Tasso, Gerusalemme Liberata, ii, 22. Horace uses the expression 
splendide mendax. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 545 

The necessity of my malevolent star 

Procures this, not her humour. O, the inconstant 

And rotten ground of service ! you may see, 

'Tis even like him, that in a winter night, 180 

Takes a long slumber o'er a dying fire, 

A-loth to part from't ; yet parts thence as cold 

As when he first sat down. 

Duck. We do confiscate, 
Towards the satisfying of your accounts. 
All that you have. 

Ant. I am all yours ; and 'tis very fit 
All mine should be so. 

Duch. So, sir, you have your pass. 

Ant. You may see, gentlemen, what 'tis to serve 
A prince with body and soul. \_Exit. 

Bos. Here's an example for extortion : what moisture is 
drawn out of the sea, when foul weather comes, pours down, 
and runs into the sea again. 19X 

Duch. I would know what are your opinions 
Of this Antonio. 

2d Off. He could not abide to see a pig's head gaping : 
I thought your grace would find him a Jew.^ 

jd Off. I would you had been his officer, for your own sake. 

4th Off. You would have had more money. 

1st Off. He stopped his ears with black wool, and to those 
came to him for money said he was thick of hearing. 

4th Off. How scurvy proud he would look when the treas- 
ury was full ! Well, let him go. 201 

1st Off. Yes, and the chippings of the buttery fly after him, 
to scour his gold chain.^ 

1 Cf. Merchant of Venice, iv, i. 

2 Stewards wore a gold chain as a symbol of their ofifice. 



546 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ill. 

Duch. Leave us. \_Exeunt Officers. 

What do you think of these ? 

Bos. That these are rogues that in's prosperity, 
But to have waited on his fortune, could have wished 
His dirty stirrup riveted through their noses, 
And followed after's mule, like a bear in a ring ; 
Made their first-born intelligencers^ ; thought none happy 
But such as were born under his blest planet, 210 

And wore his livery : and do these lice drop oif now ? 
Well, never look to have the like again : 
He hath left a sort of flattering rogues behind him ; 
Their doom must follow. Princes pay flatterers 
In their own money : flatterers dissemble their vices, 
x^nd they dissemble their lies ; that's justice. 
Alas, poor gentleman ! 

Duch. Poor I he hath amply filled his coffers. 

Bos. Sure, he was too honest. Pluto,- the god of riches, 
When he's sent by Jupiter to any man, 220 

He goes hmping, to signify that wealth 

That comes on God's name comes slowly ; but wheh he's sent 
On the devil's errand, he rides post and comes in by scuttles. 
Let me show you what a most unvalued jewel 
You have in a wanton humour thrown away, 
To bless the man shall find him. He was an excellent 
Courtier and most faithful ; a soldier that thought it 
As beastly to know his own value too little 
As devilish to acknowledge it too much. 
Both his virtue and form deserved a far better fortune : 230 
His discourse rather delighted to judge itself than show 
itself : 

1 Tale-bearers. 

2 Plutus. Cf. this passage with Bacon's Essay 0/ Riches. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 547 

His breast was filled with all perfection, 
And yet it seemed a private whispering-room, 
It made so little noise oft. 

Duck. But he was basely descended. 

Bos. Will you make yourself a mercenary herald, 
Rather to examine men's pedigrees than virtues ? 
You shall want him : 

For know an honest statesman to a prince 
Is like a cedar planted by a spring ; 240 

The spring bathes the tree's root, the grateful tree 
Rewards it with his shadow : you have not done so. 
I would sooner swim to the Bermoothes ^ on 
Two pohticians' rotten bladders, tied 
Together with an intelligencer's heart-string. 
Than depend on so changeable a prince's favour. 
Fare thee well, xA-ntonio ! since the malice of the world 
Would needs down with thee, it cannot be said yet 
That any ill happened unto thee, considering thy fall 
Was accompanied with virtue.^ 250 

Duch. O, you render me excellent music ! 

Bos. Say you ? 

Duch. This good one that you speak of is my husband. 

Bos. Do I not dream ! can this ambitious age 
Have so much goodness in't as to prefer 
A man merely for worth, without these shadows 
Of wealth and painted honours ? possible ? 

Duch. I have had three children by him. 

1 The Bermudas ; so Shakespeare in The Tempest, i, 2 : — 

" The still vex'd Bermoothes." 

2 " This and the two preceding speeches oi Bosola consist partly of lines 
which it would be difficult to read as prose, and partly of sentences which 
will not admit of any satisfactory metrical arrangement." — Dyce. 



548 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [^CT III. 

Bos. Fortunate lady ! 
For you have made your private nuptial bed 
The humble and fair seminary of peace. 260 

No question but many an unbeneficed scholar 
Shall pray for you for this deed, and rejoice 
That some preferment in the world can yet 
Arise from merit. The virgins of your land 
That have no dowries shall hope your example 
Will raise them to rich husbands. Should you want 
Soldiers, 'twould make the very Turks and Moors 
Turn Christians, and serve you for this act. 
Last, the neglected poets of your time. 

In honour of this trophy of a man, 270 

Raised by that curious engine, your white hand, 
Shall thank you, in your grave, for't ; and make that 
More reverend than all the cabinets 
Of living princes. For Antonio, 
His fame shall likewise flow from many a pen, 
When heralds shall want coats ^ to sell to men. 

Duch. As I taste comfort in this friendly speech, 
So would I find concealment. 

Bos. O, the secret of my prince. 
Which I will wear on the inside of my heart ! 280 

Duch. You shall take charge of all my coin and jewels, 
And follow him ; for he retires himself 
To Ancona. 

Bos. So. 

Duch. Whither, within few days, 
I mean to follow thee. 

Bos. Let me think : 
I would wish your grace to feign a pilgrimage 

1 Coats-of-arms. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI, 549 

To our Lady of Loretto, scarce seven leagues 
From fair Ancona ; so may you depart 
Your country with more honour, and your flight 
Will seem a princely progress, retaining 
Your usual train about you. 

Duch. Sir, your direction 290 

Shall lead me by the hand. 

Cari. In my opinion, 
She were better progress to the baths at Lucca, 
Or go visit the Spa 

In Germany ; for, if you will believe me, 
I do not like this jesting with religion. 
This feigned pilgrimage. 

Duch. Thou art a superstitious fool : 
Prepare us instantly for our departure. 
Past sorrows, let us moderately lament them j 
For those to come, seek wisely to prevent them. 300 

\_Exeunf Duchess and Cariola. 

Bos. A politician is the devil's quilted anvil ; 
He fashions all sins on him, and the blows 
Are never heard : he may work in a lady's chamber, 
As here for proof. What rests but I reveal 
All to my lord ? O, this base quality 
Of intelligencer ! why, every quaHty i' the world 
Prefers but gain or commendation : 
Now for this act I am certain to be raised. 
And men that paint weeds to the life are praised. \_Exit. 



550 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT III. 

Scene III.^ — An Apartment in the Cardinal's Palace at 

Rome. 

Enter Cardinal, Ferdinand, Malatesti, Pescara, Delio, 
and Silvio. 

Card. Must we turn soldier, then ? 

Mai. The emperor. 
Hearing your worth that way, ere you attained 
This reverend garment, joins you in commission 
With the right fortunate soldier the Marquis of Pescara, 
And the famous Lannoy. 

Card. He that had the honour 
Of taking the French king prisoner ? ^ 

Mai. The same. 
Here's a plot drawn for a new fortification 
At Naples. 

Ferd. This great count Malatesti, I perceive, 
Hath got employment? 

Delio. No employment, my lord ; 
A marginal note in the muster-book, that he is lo 

A voluntary lord. 

Ferd. He's no soldier. 

Delio. He has worn gunpowder in's hollow tooth for the 
toothache. 

Sil. He comes to the leaguer^ with a full intent 
To eat fresh beef and garlic, means to stay 
Till the scent be gone, and straight return to court. 

1 " Another scene that hovers between prose and verse." — Dyce. 

2 In 1525, Francis I was defeated at Pavia, by the generals of Charles 
V, — Pescara, Bourbon, and Lannoy, viceroy of Naples, — and surrendered 
to the last-mentioned. 

3 Camp. 



SCENE III.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 55 1 

Deho. He hath read all the late service 
As the city chronicle relates it ; 
And keeps two pewterers going, only to express 
Battles in model. 

Sil. Then he'll fight by the book. 

Delio. By the almanac, I think, 20 

To choose good days and shun the critical ; 
That's his mistress' scarf. 

Sil. Yes, he protests 
He would do much for that taffeta. 

Delia. I think he would run away from a battle. 
To save it from taking prisoner. 

Sil. He is horribly afraid 
Gunpowder will spoil the perfume on't. 

Delio. I saw a Dutchman break his pate once 
For calling him pot-gun ; he made his head 30 

Have a bore in't like a musket. 

Sil. I would he had made a touchhole to't. 
He is indeed a guarded^ sumpter-cloth, 
Only for the remove of the court. 

Enter BosoLA. 

Pes. Bosola arrived ! what should be the business? 

Some falling out amongst the cardinals. 

These factions amongst great men, they are hke 

Foxes, when their heads are divided. 

They carry fire in their tails, and all the country 

About them goes to wreck for't. 

Sil What's that Bosola ? 40 

Delio. I knew him in Padua — a fantastical scholar, like 

such who study to know how many knots was in Hercules' 
1 With facings, trimmings. 



552 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act III. 

club, of what colour Achilles' beard was, or whether Hector 
were not troubled with the toothache. He hath studied him- 
self half blear-eyed to know the true symmetry of Caesar's 
nose by a shoeing-horn ; and this he did to gain the name 
of a speculative man. 

Pes. Mark Prince Ferdinand : 
A very salamander lives in's eye. 
To mock the eager violence of fire. 50 

Sil. That cardinal hath made more bad faces with his 
oppression than ever Michael Angelo made good ones : he 
lifts up's nose, like a foul porpoise before a storm. 

Pes, The Lord Ferdinand laughs. 

Delio. Like a deadly cannon 
That lightens ere it smokes. 

Pes. These are your true pangs of death. 
The pangs of hfe that struggle with great statesmen. 

Delio. In such a deformed silence witches whisper their 
charms. 

Card. Doth she make religion her riding-hood 60 

To keep her from the sun and tempest? 

Ferd. That, 
That damns her. Methinks her fault and beauty, 
Blended together, show like leprosy, 
The whiter, the fouler. I make it a question 
Whether her beggarly brats were ever christened. 

Cai'd. I will instantly solicit the state of Ancona 
To have them banished. 

Ferd. You are for Loretto : 
I shall not be at your ceremony ; fare you well. — 
Write to the Duke of Malfi, my young nephew 
She had by her first husband, and acquaint him 70 

With's mother's honesty. 



SCENE iv.l THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 



553 



Bos. I will. 

Fei'd. Antonio ! 
A slave that only smelled of ink and counters, 
And never in's life looked like a gentleman, 
But in the audit-time. — Go, go presently. 
Draw me out an hundred and iifty of our horse. 
And meet me at the fort-bridge. \_Exeiint, 

Scene IV. — The Shriiie of our Lady of Lore Uo. 
Enter Two Pilgrims. 

1st Pil. I have not seen a goodlier shrine than this ; 
Yet I have visited many. 

2d Pil. The Cardinal of Arragon 
Is this day to resign his cardinal's hat : 
His sister duchess likewise is arrived 
To pay her vow of pilgrimage. I expect 
A noble ceremony. 

1st Pil. No question. — They come. 

Here the ceremony of the Cardinal's instalme7it, in the 
habit of a soldier, is performed by his delivering up his 
cross, hat, robes, and ring, at the shrine, and the invest- 
ing of him with sword, helmet, shield, and spurs ; then 
Antonio, the Duchess, and their children, having pre- 
sented themselves at the shrifie, are, by a form of banish- 
ment in dumb-show expi'essed towards them by the 
Cardinal and the state of Ancona, banished : during all 
which ceremony, this ditty is sung, to very solemn musiCy 
by divers churchmen. 

Arms and honours deck thy story, 
To thy fame's eternal glory ! 



554 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act III. 

Adverse fortune ever fly thee ; lo 

No disastrous fate come nigh thee ! 
I alone will sing thy praises, 
Whom to honour virtue raises ; 
And thy study, that divine is, 
Bent to martial disciphne is. 
Lay aside all those robes lie by thee ; 
Crown thy arts with arms, they'll beautify thee. 
O worthy of worthiest name, adorned in this manner, 
Lead bravely thy forces on under war's warlike banner ! 
O, mayst thou prove fortunate in all martial courses ! 20 

Guide thou still by skill in arts and forces ! 
Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud thy powers ; 
Triumphant conquest crown thy head, and blessings pour 
down showers ! ^ 

\_Exeiint all except the Two Pilgrims. 

1st Pil. Here's a strange turn of state ! who would have 
thought 
So great a lady would have matched herself 
Unto so mean a person? yet the cardinal 
Bears himself much too cruel. 

2d Pil. They are banished. 

1st Pil. But I would ask what power hath this state 
Of Ancona to determine of a free prince ? 

2d Pil. They are a free state, sir, and her brother showed 
How that the Pope, forehearing of her looseness, 31 

Hath seized into the protection of the church 
The dukedom which she held as dowager. 

1st Pil. But by what justice ? 

2d Pil. Sure, I think by none, 

1 The Quarto of 1623 has the following marginal note : " The Author 
disclaimes this Ditty to be his." 



SCENE v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 555 

Only her brother's instigation. 

1st Pil. What was it with such violence he took 
Off from her finger ? 

2d Pil. 'Twas her wedding-ring ; 
Which he vowed shortly he would sacrifice 
To his revenge. 

1st Pil. Alas, Antonio ! 
If that a man be thrust into a well, 40 

No matter who sets hand to't, his own weight 
Will bring him sooner to the bottom. Come, let's hence. 
Fortune makes this conclusion general, 
All things do help the unhappy man to fall. \_Exeunf. 

Scene V. — A^ear Loretto. 
Enter Duchess, Antonio, Children, Cariola, and Servants. 

Dnch. Banished Ancona ! 

Ant. Yes, you see what power 
Lightens in great men's breath. 

Duch. Is all our train 
Shrunk to this poor remainder? 

Ant. These poor men, ^ 

Which have got little in your service, vow 
To take your fortune : but your wiser buntings,^ 
Now they are fledged, are gone. 

Duch. They have done wisely. 
This puts me in mind of death : physicians thus,^ 
With their hands full of money, use to give o'er 
Their patients. 

Ant. Right the fashion of the world : 
From decayed fortunes every flatterer shrinks ; 10 

1 Birds of the sparrow family. 2 cf. Timon of Athens, iii, 3. 



556 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act ill. 

Men cease to build where the foundation sinks. 

Duch. I had a very strange dream to-night. 

Ant. What was't ? 

Duch. Methought I wore my coronet of state, 
And on a sudden all the diamonds 
Were changed to pearls. 

Ant. My interpretation 
Is, you'll weep shortly; for to me the pearls 
Do signify your tears. 

Duch. The birds that live i' the field 
On the wild benefit of nature live 

Happier than we ; for they may choose their mates, 20 

And carol their sweet pleasures to the spring. 

Enter BosoLA with a letter. 

Bos. You are happily o'erta'en. 

Duch. From my brother? 

Bos. Yes, from the Lord Ferdinand your brother 
All love and safety. 

Duch. Thou dost blanch mischief, 
Wouldst make it white. See, see, like to calm weather 
At sea iDefore a tempest, false hearts speak fair 
To those they intend most mischief. \Reads. 

*' Send Antonio to me ; I want his head in a business." 
A politic equivocation ! 

He doth not want your counsel, but your head ; 30 

That is, he cannot sleep till you be dead. 
And here's another pitfall that's strewed o'er 
With roses ; mark it, 'tis a cunning one : \_Reads. 

" I stand engaged for your husband for several debts at 
Naples : let not that trouble him ; I had rather have his 
heart than his money:" — 



SCENE v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 557 

And I believe so too. 

Bos. What do you believe ? 

Diich. That he so much distrusts my husband's love 
He will by no means beheve his heart is with him 40 

Until he sees it : the devil is not cunning enough 
To circumvent us in riddles. 

Bos. Will you reject that noble and free league 
Of amity and love which I present you ? 

Duch. Their league is like that of some poHtic kings, 
Only to make themselves of strength and power 
To be our after-ruin : tell them so. 

Bos. And what from you? 

Ant. Thus tell him ; I will not come. 

Bos. And what of this ? 

Ant. My brothers have dispersed 
Blood-hounds abroad ; which till I hear are muzzled, 50 

No truce, though hatched with ne'er such politic skill. 
Is safe, that hangs upon our enemies' will. 
I'll not come at them. 

Bos. This proclaims your breeding : 
Every small thing draws a base mind to fear, 
As the adamant draws iron. Fare you well, sir : 
You shall shortly hear from's. \_Exit. 

Duch. I suspect some ambush : 
Therefore by all my love I do conjure you 
To take your eldest son, and fly towards Milan. 
Let us not venture all this poor remainder 
In one unlucky bottom. 

Ant. You counsel safely. 60 

Best of my life, farewell, since we must part : 
Heaven hath a hand in't ; but no otherwise 
Than as some curious artist takes in sunder 



558 THE DUCHESS OF MALFF. [act III. 

A clock or watch, when it is out of frame, 
To bring't in better order. 

Duch. I know not which is best, 
To see you dead, or part with you. — Farewell, boy : 
Thou art happy that thou hast not understanding 
To know thy misery ; for all our wit 

And reading brings us to a truer sense 70 

Of sorrow. — In the eternal church, sir, 
I do hope we shall not part thus. 

Ant. O, be of comfort ! 
Make patience a noble fortitude. 
And think not how unkindly we are used : 
Man, like to cassia, is proved best being bruised. 

Duch. Must I, like a slave-born Russian, 
Account it praise to suffer tyranny? 
And yet, O Heaven, thy heavy hand is in't ! 
I have seen my little boy oft scourge his top, 
'And compared myself to't : naught made me e'er 80 

Go right but Heaven's scourge-stick. 

Ant. Do not weep : 
Heaven fashioned us of nothing, and we strive 
To bring ourselves to nothing. — Farewell, Cariola, 
And thy sweet armful. — If I do never see thee more, 
Be a good mother to your little ones. 
And save them from the tiger : fare you well. 

Duch. Let me look upon you once more, for that speech 
Came from a dying father : your kiss is colder 
Than that I have seen an holy anchorite 
Give to a dead man's skull. 90 

Ant. My heart is turned to a heavy lump of lead, 
With which I sound my danger : fare you well. 

\_Exeunt Antonio and his Son. 



SCENE v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 559 

Duch. My laurel is all withered. 

Caj'i. Look, madam, what a troop of armed men 
Make towards us. 

Duch. O, they are very welcome : 
When fortune's wheel is over-charged with princes, 
The weight makes it move swift : I would have my ruin 
Be sudden. 

Re-enter Bosola visarded, with a Guard. 

I am your adventure, am I not ? 

Bos. You are : you must see your husband no more. 

Duck. What devil art thou that counterfeit'st Heaven's 
thunder? 

Bos. Is that terrible ? I would have you tell me whether 
Is that note worse that frights the silly birds loi 

Out of the corn, or that which doth allure them 
To the nets? you have hearkened to the last too much. 

Duch. O misery ! like to a rusty o'er-charged cannon. 
Shall I never fly in pieces? — Come, to what prison? 

Bos. To none. 

Duch. Whither, then? 

Bos. To your palace. 

Duch. I have heard 
That Charon's boat serves to convey all o'er 
The dismal lake, but brings none back again. 

Bos. Your brothers mean you safety and pity. 

Duch. Pity ! no 

With such a pity men preserve alive 
Pheasants and quails, when they are not fat enough 
To be eaten. 

Bos. These are your children? 

Duch. Yes. 



560 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act III. 

Bos. Can they prattle ? 

Duch. No ; 
But I intend, since they were born accursed, 
Curses shall be their first language. 

Bos. Fie, madam ! 
Forget this base, low fellow, — 

Duch. Were I a man, 
I'd beat that counterfeit face into thy other. 

Bos. One of no birth. 

Duch. Say that he was born mean, 120 

Man is most happy when's own actions 
Be arguments and examples of his virtue. 

Bos, A barren, beggarly virtue. 

Duch. I prithee, who is greatest? can you tell? 
Sad tales befit my woe : I'll tell you one. 
A salmon, as she swam unto the sea, 
Met with a dog-fish, who encounters her 
With this rough language : " Why art thou so bold 
To mix thyself with our high state of floods,^ 
Being no eminent courtier, but one 130 

That for the calmest and fresh time o' the year 
Dost live in shallow rivers, rank'st thyself 
With silly smelts and shrimps ? and darest thou 
Pass by our dog- ship without reverence?" 
" O ! " quoth the salmon, " sister, be at peace : 
Thank Jupiter we both have passed the net ! 
Our value never can be truly known, 
Till in the fisher's basket we be shown : 
r the market then my price may be the higher, 
Even when I am nearest to the cook and fire." 140 

So to great men the moral may be stretched ; 

^ cm Hemy IV, v, 2. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 561 

Men oft are valued high, when they're most wretched. — 
But come, whither you please. I am armed 'gainst misery ; 
Bent to all sways of the oppressor's will : 
There's no deep valley but near some great hill. \_Exei/7tt. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — An Apartment i7i the Duchess' Palace at Malfi. 

Enter Ferdinand and Bosola. 

Fej'd. How doth our sister duchess bear herself 
[n her imprisonment? 

Bos Nobly : I'll describe her. 
She's sad as one long used to't, and she seems 
Rather to welcome the end of misery 
rhan shun it ; a behaviour so noble 
AlS gives a majesty to adversity : 
i^ou may discern the shape of loveliness 
More perfect in her tears than in her smiles : 
She will muse four hours together ; and her silence, 
Methinks, expresseth more than if she spake. 10 

Ferd. Her melancholy seems to be fortified 
^ith a strange disdain. 

Bos. 'Tis so ; and this restraint, 
Like English mastiffs that grow fierce with tying, 
Makes her too passionately apprehend 
Those pleasures she's kept from. 

Ferd. Curse upon her ! 
[ will no longer study in the book 
Of another's heart. Inform her what I told you. \^Exit. 



562 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act IV. 

Enter Duchess.^ 

Bos. All comfort to your grace ! 

Duch. I will have none. 
Pray thee, why dost thou wrap thy poisoned pills 
In gold and sugar ? 20 

Bos. Your elder brother, the Lord Ferdinand, 
Is come to visit you, and sends you word, 
'Cause once he rashly made a solemn vow 
Never to see you more, he comes i' the night ; 
And prays you gently neither torch nor taper 
Shine in your chamber : he will kiss your hand, 
And reconcile himself; but for his vow 
He dares not see you. 

Duch. At his pleasure. — 
Take hence the lights. — He's come. 

Enter Ferdinand. 

Ferd. Where are you? 30 

Duch. Here, sir. 

Ferd. This darkness suits you well. 

Duch. I would ask your pardon. 

Ferd. You have it ; 
For I account it the honourabl'st revenge. 
Where I may kill, to pardon. — Where are your cubs ? 

Duch. Whom? • 

Ferd. Call them your children ; 
For though our national law distinguish bastards 
From true legitimate issue, compassionate nature 
Makes them all equal. 

1 Dyce suggests that here the audience had to imagine a change of 
scene to the lodging of the Duchess. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 563 

Ditch. Do you visit me for this? 
You violate a sacrament o' the church 
Shall make you howl in hell for't. 

Ferd. It had been well, 40 

Could you have lived thus always ; for, indeed, 
You were too much i' the light : — but no more ; 
I come to seal my peace with you. Here's a hand 

\_Gives her a dead mail's hattd. 
To which you have vowed much love ; the ring upon't 
You gave. 

Diich. I affectionately kiss it. 

Fe?-d. Pray, do, and bury the print of it in your heart. 
I will leave this ring with you for a love-token ; 
And the hand as sure as the ring ; and do not doubt 
But you shall have the heart too : when you need a friend, 
Send it to him that owned it ; you shall see 50 

Whether he can aid you. 

Duch. You are very cold : 
I fear you are not well after your travel. — 
Ha ! lights ! O, horrible ! 

Ferd. Let her have lights enough. [Exit 

Duch. What witchcraft does he practise, that he hath left 
A' dead man's hand here ? 

\Here is discovei-ed, behind a traverse,^ the artificial 
figures of AiiTONio and his Children, appearing 
as if they were dead. 

Bos. Look you, here's the piece from which 'twas ta'en. 
He doth present you this sad spectacle. 
That, now you know directly they are dead, 
Hereafter you may wisely cease to grieve 60 

For that which cannot be recovered. 
1 Curtain. 



564 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT iv. 

Duch. There is not between Heaven and earth one wish 
I stay for after this : it wastes me more 
Than were't my picture, fashioned out of wax, 
Stuck with a magical needle, and then buried 
In some foul dunghill ; and yond's an excellent property 
For a tyrant, which I would account mercy. 

Bos. What's that? 

Duch. If they would bind me to that lifeless trunk, 
And let me freeze to death. 

Bos. Come, you must live. 

Duch. That's the greatest torture souls feel in hell, 70 

In hell, that they must live, and cannot die.^ 
Portia, I'll new kindle thy coals again, 
And revive the rare and almost dead example 
Of a loving wife. 

Bos. O, fie ! despair? remember 
You are a Christian. 

Duch. The church enjoins fasting : 
I'll starve myself to death. 

Bos. Leave this vain sorrow. 
Things being at the worst begin to mend : the bee 
When he hath shot his sting into your hand, 
May then play with your eyelid. 80 

Duch. Good comfortable fellow, 
Persuade a wretch that's broke upon the wheel 
To have all his bones new set ; entreat him live 
To be executed again. Wlio must despatch me ? 
I account this world a tedious theatre. 
For I do play a part in't 'gainst my will. 

Bos. Come, be of comfort ; I will save your life. 

Duch. Indeed, I have not leisure to tend 

1 Cf. Dante, inferno, iii, 46. 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 565 

So small abusiness. 

Bos. Now, by my life, I pity you. 

Duch. Thou art a fool, then, 90 

To waste thy pity on a thing so wretched 
As cannot pity itself. I am full of daggers. 
Puff, let me blow these vipers from me. 

Enter Servant. 
What are you ? 

Serv. One that wishes you long Hfe. 

Dtich. I would thou wert hanged for the horrible curse 
Thou hast given me : I shall shortly grow one 
Of the miracles of pity. I'll go pray ; — 
No, I'll go curse. 

Bos. O, fie ! 

Duch. I could curse the stars. 
• Bos. O, fearful. 

Duch. And those three smiling seasons of the year 100 
Into a Russian winter : nay, the world 
To its first chaos. 

Bos. Look you, the stars shine still. 

Duch. O, but you must 
Remember, my curse hath a great way to go. — 
Plagues, that make lanes through largest families, 
Consume them ! — 

Bos. Fie, lady ! 

Duch. Let them, like tyrants. 
Never be remembered but for the ill they have done ; 
Let all the zealous prayers of mortified 
Churchmen forget them ! — 

Bos. O, uncharitable ! no 

Duch. Let Heaven a little while cease crowning martyrs, 



566 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act IV. 

To punish them ! — 

Go, howl them this, and say, I long to bleed : 

It is some mercy when men kill with speed. • \^Exit. 

Re-enter Ferdinand. 

Ferd. Excellent, as I would wish ; she's plagued in art : 
These presentations are but framed in wax 
By the curious master in that quality, 
Vincentio Lauriola, and she takes them 
For true substantial bodies. 

Bos. Why do you do this? 120 

Ferd. To bring her to despair. 

Bos. Faith, end here, 
And go no farther in your cruelty : 
Send her a penitential garment to put on 
Next to her delicate skin, and furnish her 
With beads and prayer-books. 

Ferd. Damn her ! that body of hers, 
While that my blood ran pure in't, was more worth 
Than that which thou wouldst comfort, called a soul. 
I will send her masks of common courtezans. 
Have her meat served up by bawds and ruffians, 130 

And, 'cause she'll needs be mad, I am resolved 
To remove forth the common hospital 
All the mad- folk, and place them near her lodging ; 
There let them practise together, sing and dance. 
And act their gambols to the full o' the moon : 
If she can sleep the better for it, let her. 
Your work is almost ended. 

Bos. Must I see her again? 

Ferd. Yes. 

Bos. Never. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 567 

Ferd. You must. 

Bos. Never in mine own shape ; 
That's forfeited by my intelHgence 140 

And this last cruel lie : when you send me next. 
The business shall be comfort. 

Fcrd. Very likely ; 
Thy pity is nothing of kin to thee. Antonio 
Lurks about Milan : thou shalt shortly thither, 
To feed a fire as great as my revenge, 
Which never will slack till it have spent his fuel : 
Intemperate agues make physicians cruel. \_Exeunt. 

Scene II. — Another Room in the Duchess' Lodging. 
Enter Duchess and Cariola. 

Ditch. What hideous noise was that? 

Cari. 'Tis the wild consort^ 
Of madmen, lady, which your tyrant brother 
Hath placed about your lodging : this tyranny, 
I think, was never practised till this hour. 

Diich. Indeed, I thank him : nothing but noise and folly 
Can keep me in my right wits ; whereas reason 
And silence make me stark mad. Sit down ; 
Discourse to me some dismal tragedy. 

Cari. O, 'twill increase your melancholy. 

Duch. Thou art deceived : 10 

To hear of greater grief would lessen mine. 
This is a prison ? 

Cari. Yes, but you shall live 
To shake this durance off. 

Duch. Thou art a fool : 

1 Company. 



568 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT IV. 

The robiti-redbreast and the nightingale 
Never hve long in cages. 

Cari. Pray, dry your eyes. 
What think you of, madam ? 

Duch. Of nothing ; 
When I muse thus, I sleep. 

Cari. Like a madman, with your eyes open? 

Duch. Dost thou think we shall know one another 
In the other world ? 

Cai'i. Yes, out of question. 20 

Duch. O, that it were possible we might 
But hold some two days' conference with the dead ! 
From them I should learn somewhat, I am sure, 
I never shall know here. I'll tell thee a miracle ; 
I am not mad yet, to my cause of sorrow : 
The Heaven o'er my head seems made of molten brass, 
The earth of flaming sulphur, yet I am not mad. 
I am acquainted with sad misery 
As the tanned galley-slave is with his oar ; 
Necessity makes me suffer constantly, 30 

And custom makes it easy. Who do I look like now? 

Cari. Like to your picture in the gallery, 
A deal of life in show, but none in practice ; 
Or rather like some reverend monument 
Whose ruins are even pitied. 

Duch. Very proper ; 
And Fortune seems only to have her eyesight 
To behold my tragedy. — How now ! 
What noise is that? 

Enter Servant. 
Seru, I am come to tell you 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 569 

Your brother hath intended you some sport. 

A great physician, when the Pope was sick 40 

Of a deep melancholy, presented him 

With several sorts of madmen, "which wild object 

Being full of change and sport, forced him to laugh. 

And so the imposthume broke : the self-same cure 

The duke intends on you. 

Ditch. Let them come in. 

Serv. There's a mad lawyer ; and a secular priest ; 
A doctor that hath forfeited his wits 
By jealousy ; an astrologian 
That in his works said such a day o' the month 
Should be the day of doom, and, failing oft, 50 

Ran mad ; an English tailor crazed i' the brain 
With the study of new fashions ; a gentleman-usher 
Quite beside himself with care to keep in mind 
The number of his lady's salutations. 
Or " How do you," she employed him in each morning ; 
A farmer, too, an excellent knave in grain. 
Mad 'cause he was hindered transportation : 
And let one broker that's mad loose to these. 
You'd think the devil were among them. 

Ditch. Sit, Cariola. — Let them loose when you please, 60 
For I am chained to endure all your tyranny. 

Enter Madmen. 

Here this Song is sung to a dismal kind of music by a 
Madman. 

O, let us howl some heavy note. 

Some deadly dogged howl. 
Sounding as from the threatening throat 

Of beasts and fatal fowl ! 



570 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act IV. 

As ravens, screech-owls, bulls, and bears, 

We'll bell,^ and bawl our parts, 
Till irksome noise have cloyed your ears 

And corrosived your hearts. 
At last, whenas our quire wants breath, 70 

Our bodies being blest, 
We'll sing, like swans, to welcome death, 

And die in love and rest. 

1st Madman. Doom's-day not come yet ! I'll draw it 
nearer by a perspective, or make a glass that shall set all 
the world on fire upon an instant. I cannot sleep ; my 
pillow is stuffed with a litter of porcupines. 

2d Madj?ian. Hell is a mere glass-house, where the devils 
are continually blowing up women's souls on hollow irons, 
and the fire never goes out. 2>o 

1st Madman. I have skill in heraldry. 

2d Madman. Hast? 

1st Madman. You do give for your crest a wood-cock's 
head with the brains picked out on't ; you are a very ancient 
gentleman. 

3d Madman. Greek is turned Turk : we are only to be 
saved by the Helvetian translation. 

1st Madman. Come on, sir, I will lay the law to you. 

2d Madman. O, rather lay a corrosive : the law will eat 
to the bone. 90 

3d Madman. He that drinks but to satisfy nature is 
damned. 

4th Madman. If I had my glass here, I would show a 
sight should make all the women here call me mad doctor. 

1 Bellow ; so Chaucer, " As loud as belleth wind in helle." — House of 
Fame, iii, 713. 



SCENE 11.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 571 

J st Madman. What's he? a rope-maker? 

2d Madman. No, no, no, a snuffling knave that, while he 
shows the tombs, will have his hand in a wench's placket.^ 

jd Madman. Woe to the caroche^ that brought home my 
wife from the masque at three o'clock in the morning ! it 
had a large feather-bed in it. 100 

4th Madman. I have pared the devil's nails forty times, 
roasted them in raven's eggs, and cured agues with them. 

3d Madma7i. Get me three hundred milchbats, to make 
possets to procure sleep. 

4th Madnian. All the college may throw their caps at me : 
I have made a soap-boiler costive ; it was my masterpiece. 
\_Here a dance of Eight Madmen, with music 
answei'ahle thereto; after which, Bosola, like 
an Old Man, enters. 

Duch. Is he mad too? 

Se7V. Pray, question him. I'll leave you. 

\_Exeiint Servant and Madmen. 

Bos. I am come to make thy tomb. 

Duch. Ha ! my tomb ! no 

Thou speak'st as if I lay upon my deathbed, 
Gasping for breath : dost thou perceive me sick ? 

Bos. Yes, and the more dangerously, since thy sickness is 
insensible. 

Duch. Thou art not mad, sure : dost thou know me ? 

Bos. Yes. 

Duch. Who am I ? 

Bos. Thou art a box of worm-seed, at best but a salva- 
tory^ of green mummy.'' What's this flesh? a httle crudded 

1 Petticoat, 2 Coach. ^ a place where anything is preserved. 

4 Mummies were used for medicinal purposes. " The Egyptian mum- 
mies, which Cambyses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth. 



2y2 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT IV. 

milk, fantastical puff-paste. Our bodies are weaker than 
those paper-prisons boys use to keep flies in ; more con- 
temptible, since ours is to preserve earth-worms. Didst 
thou ever see a lark in a cage? Such is the soul in the 
body : this world is like her little turf of grass, and the 
Heaven o'er our heads, like her looking-glass, only gives us 
a miserable knowledge of the small compass of our prison. 

Duck. Am not I thy duchess? 127 

Bos. Thou art some great woman, sure, for riot begins to 
sit on thy forehead (clad in grey hairs) twenty years sooner 
than on a merry milkmaid's. Thou sleepest worse than if 
a mouse should be forced to take up her lodging in a cat's 
ear : a little infant that breeds its teeth, should it lie with 
thee, would cry out, as if thou wert the more unquiet bed- 
fellow. 

Duch. I am Duchess of Malfi still. 

Bos. That makes thy sleep so broken : 
Glories like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, 
But looked to near, have neither heat nor light.^ 

Duch. Thou art very plain. 139 

Bos. My trade is to flatter the dead, not the living ; I am 
a tomb- maker. 

Duch. And thou comest to make my tomb ? 

Bos. Yes. 

Duch. Let me be a little merry : — of what stuff wilt thou 
make it? 

Bos. Nay resolve me first, of what fashion? 

Duch. Why do we grow fantastical in our deathbed ? do 
we affect fashion in the grave ? 148 

Mummy is become merchandize. Mizraim cures wounds, and Pharaoh 
is sold for balsams." — Sir Th. Browne, Urn Burial. 

1 This fine couplet is found also in Webster's White Devil 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 573 

Bos. Most ambitiously. Princes' images on their tombs 
do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray up to Heaven ; 
but with their hands under their cheeks, as if they died of 
the toothache : they are not carved with their eyes fixed 
upon the stars ; but as their minds were wholly bent upon 
the world, the self-same way they seem to turn their faces.^ 

Diich. Let me know fully therefore the effect 
Of this thy dismal preparation, 
This talk, fit for a charnel. 

Bos. Now I shall : — 

Eftfer Executioners, laith a coffin, cords, and a deli. 

Here is a present from your princely brothers ; 
And may it arrive welcome, for it brings 
Last benefit, last sorrow. 

Duch. Let me see it : 160 

I have so much obedience in my blood, 
I wish it in their veins to do them good. 

Bos. This is your last presence-chamber. 

Cari. O my sweet lady ! 

Duch. Peace ; it affrights not me. 

Bos. I am the common bellman, 
That usually is sent to condemned persons 
The night before they suffer. 

Duch. Even now thou said'st 
Thou wast a tomb-maker. 

Bos. 'Twas to bring you 
By degrees to mortification. Listen. 170 

1 This apt criticism might have been the text from which Ruskin wrote 
his chapter on the funeral monuments of Venice, as illustrating the worldly 
spirit of the Renaissance. See Stones of Venice, Vol. H, chap. 3, edition 
of 1885. 



5 74 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act IV. 

Hark, now everything is still 
The screech-owl and the whistler shrill ^ 
Call upon our dame aloud, 
And bid her quickly don her shroud ! 
Much you had of land and rent ; 
Your length in clay's now competent : 
A long war disturbed your mind ; 
Here your perfect peace is signed. 
Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? 
Sin their conception, their birth weeping, i8o 

Their life a general mist of error. 
Their death a hideous storm of terror. 
Strew your hair with powders sweet. 
Don clean linen, bathe your feet. 
And (the foul fiend more to check) 
A crucifix let bless your neck : 
'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day ; 
End your groan, and come away. 
Cari. Hence, villains, tyrants, murderers ! alas ! 
What will you do with my lady? — Call for help. 190 

Duch. To whom ? to our next neighbours ? they are mad- 
folks. 
Bos. Remove that noise. 
Duch. Farewell, Cariola. 
In my last will I have not much to give : 
A many hungry guests have fed upon me ; 
Thine will be a poor reversion. 
Cari. I will die with her. 

Duch. I pray thee, look thou giv'st my little boy 
Some syrup for his cold, and let the girl 

1 Cf. Spenser, Faerie Queene, Bk. H, chap, xii, st. 36 : — 
" The whistler shrill, that whoso heares doth dy." 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 575 

Say her prayers ere she sleep. 

[Cariola is forced out by the Executioners. 
Now what you please : 
What death? 

Bos. Strangling ; here are your executioners. 

Duch. I forgive them : 200 

The apoplexy, catarrh, or cough o' the lungs, 
Would do as much as they do. 

Bos. Doth not death fright you ? 

Duch. Who would be afraid on't, 
Knowing to meet such excellent company 
In the other world ? 

Bos. Yet, methinks, 
The manner of your death should much afflict you : 
This cord should terrify you. 

Duch. Not a whit : 
What would it pleasure me to have my throat cut 
With diamonds? or to be smothered 

With cassia? or to be shot to death with pearls? 210 

I know death hath ten thousand several doors 
For men to take their exits ; and 'tis found 
They go on such strange geometrical hinges, 
You may open them both ways ; any way, for Heaven's sake, 
So I were out of your whispering. Tell my brothers 
That I perceive death, now I am well awake, 
Best gift is they can give or I can take. 
I would fain put off my last woman's fault, 
I'd not be tedious to you. 

1st Execut. We are ready. 

Duch. Dispose my breath how please you ; but my body 
Bestow upon my women, will you ? 

jst Execut. Yes. 221 



576 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act IV. 

Diich. Pull, and pull strongly, for your able strength 
Must pull down Heaven upon me : — 
Yet stay ; Heaven-gates are not so highly arched 
As princes' palaces ; they that enter there 
Must go upon their keees {kneels). — Come, violent death, 
Serve for mandragora to make me sleep ! — 
Go tell my brothers, when I am laid out, 
They then may feed in quiet. 

\_The Executioners stra?igle the Duchess.^ 

Bos. Where's the waiting woman ? 230 

Fetch her : some other strangle the children. 

[Cariola a7id Children are brought in by the Exe- 
cutioners ; who presently strangle the Children. 
Look you, there sleeps your mistress. 

Cari. O, you are damned 
Perpetually for this ! My turn is next, 
Is't not so ordered ? 

1 " All the several parts of the dreadful apparatus with which the Duchess's 
death is ushered in, are not more remote from the conceptions of ordinary 
vengeance, than the strange character of suflfering which they seem to bring 
upon their victim, is beyond the imagination of ordinary poets. As they 
are not like inflictions of this life, so her language seems not of this world. 
She has lived among horrors till she is become ' native and endowed unto 
that element.' She speaks the dialect of despair, her tongue has a smatch 
of Tartarus and the souls in bale. What are ' Luke's iron crown,' the 
brazen bull of Perillus, Procrustes's bed, to the waxen images which coun- 
terfeit death, to the wild masque of madmen, the tomb-maker, the bell-man, 
the living person's dirge, the mortification by degrees! To move a horror 
skilfully, to touch a soul to the quick, to lay upon fear as much as it can 
bear, to wean and weary a life till it is ready to drop, and then step in with 
mortal instruments to take its last forfeit; this only a Webster can do. 
Writers of an inferior genius may ' upon horror's head horrors accumulate,' 
but they cannot do this. They mistake quantity for quality, tliey ' terrify 
babes with painted devils,' but they know not how a soul is capable of 
being moved; their terrors want dignity, their affrightments are without 
decorum." — C. Lamb. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 577 

Bos. Yes, and I am glad 
You are so well prepared for't 

Cari. You are deceived, sir, 
I am not prepared for't, I will not die ; 
I will first come to my answer, and know 
How I have offended. 

Bos. Come, despatch her. — 
You kept her counsel ; now you shall keep ours. 

Cari. I will not die, I must not ; I am contracted 
To a young gentleman. 

1st Execiit. Here's your wedding-ring. 240 

Cari. Let me but speak with the duke ; I'll discover 
Treason to his person. 

Bos. Delays : — throttle her. 

1st Execut. She bites and scratches. 

Cari. If you kill me now, 
I am damned ; I have not been at confe^ion 
This two years. 

Bos. {Jo Executioners) . When ? 

\_The Executioners strangle Cariola. 

Bear her into the next room ; 
Let these lie still. 

\_Exeuni the Executioners with the body of Cariola. 

Enter Ferdinand. 

Ferd. Is she dead? 

Bos. She is what 
You'd have her. But here begins your pity : 

\^Shows the Children strangled. 
Alas, how have these offended? 

Ferd. The death 
Of young wolves is never to be pitied. 



578 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act IV. 

Bos. Fix your eye here. 

Ferd. Constantly. 

Bos. Do you not weep ? 250 

Other sins only speak ; murder shrieks out : 
The element of water moistens the earth, 
But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens. 

Fe7'd. Cover her face ; mine eyes dazzle : she died young.' 

Bos. I think not ; her infelicity 
Seemed to have years too many. 

Ferd. She and I were twins ; 
And should I die this instant, I had lived 
Her time to a minute. 

Bos. It seems she was born first : 
You have bloodily approved the ancient truth, 260 

That kindred commonly do worse agree 
Than remote strangers. 

Ferd. Let me see her face 
Again. Why didst not thou pity her ? what 
An excellent honest man mightst thou have been, 
If thou hadst borne her to some sanctuary ! 
Or, bold in a good cause, opposed thyself, 
With thy advanced sword above thy head, 
Between her innocence and my revenge ! 
I bade thee, when I was distracted of my wits. 
Go kill my dearest friend, and thou hast done't. 270 

For let me but examine well the cause : 
What was the meanness of her match to me ? 
Only I must confess I had a hope, 
Had she continued widow, to have gained 
An infinite mass of treasure by her death : 

1 This is one of those lines, peculiar to Webster, in which a character is 
revealed in half-a-dozen words. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 5 79 

And what was the main cause ? her marriage, 

That drew a stream of gall quite through my heart. 

For thee, as we observe in tragedies 

That a good actor many times is cursed 

For playing a villain's part, I hate thee for't, 280 

And, for my sake, say, thou hast done much ill well. 

Bos. Let me quicken your memory, for I perceive 
You are falling into ingratitude : I challenge 
The reward due to my service. 

Ferd. I'll tell thee 
What I'll give thee. 

Bos. Do. 

Ferd. I'll give thee a pardon 
For this murder. 

Bos. Ha! 

Fei'd. Yes, and 'tis 
The largest bounty I can study to do thee. 
By what authority didst thou execute 
This bloody sentence ? 

Bos. By yours. 

Ferd. Mine ! was I her judge ? 
Did any ceremonial form of law 290 

Doom her to not-being? did a complete jury 
Deliver her conviction up i' the court ? 
Where shalt thou find this judgment registered, 
Unless in hell ? See, like a bloody fool, 
Thou'st forfeited thy life, and thou shalt die for't. 

Bos. The office of justice is perverted quite 
When one thief hangs another. Who shall dare 
To reveal this ? 

Ferd. O, I'll tell thee ; 
The wolf shall find her grave, and scrape it up, 



580 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act iv. 

Not to devour the corpse, but to discover 300 

The horrid murder.^ 

Bos. You, not I, shall quake for't. 

Ferd. Leave me. 

Bos. I will first receive my pension. 

Ferd. You are a villain. 

Bos. When your ingratitude 
Is judge, I am so. • 

Ferd. O horror. 
That not the fear of him which binds the devils 
Can prescribe man obedience ! — 
Never look upon me more. 

Bos. Why, fare thee well. 
Your brother and yourself are worthy men : 
You have a pair of hearts are hollow graves, 310 

Rotten, and rotting others ; and your vengeance. 
Like two chained bullets, still goes arm in arm : ^ 
You may be brothers ; for treason, like the plague, 
Doth take much in a blood. I stand like one 
That long hath ta'en a sweet and golden dream : 
I am angry with myself, now that I wake, 

Ferd. Get thee into some unknown part o' the world. 
That I may never see thee.^ 

Bos. Let me know 
Wherefore I should be thus neglected. Sir, 
I served your tyranny, and rather strove 320 

To satisfy yourself than all the world : 

1 A common superstition. 

2 Cf. Heywood's A Challenge for Beautle : 

" My friend and I 
Like two chain-bullets, side by side, will fly 
Thorow the jawes of death." 

3 Cf. King John, iv, 2. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 58 1 

And though I loathed the evil, yet I loved 
You that did counsel it ; and rather sought 
To appear a true servant than an honest man. 

Ferd. I'll go hunt the badger by owl-light : 
'Tis a deed of darkness. \_Exif. 

Bos. He's much distracted. Off, my painted honour ! 
While with vain hopes our faculties we tire, 
We seem to sweat in ice and freeze in fire. 
What would 1 do, were this to do again ? 330 

I would not change my peace of conscience 
For all the wealth of Europe. — She stirs ; here's life : — 
Return, fair soul, from darkness, and lead mine 
Out of this sensible hell : — She's warm, she breathes : — 
Upon thy pale lips I will melt my heart, 
To store them with fresh colour. ■ — ■ Who's there ? 
Some cordial drink ! — Alas, I dare not call : 
So pity would destroy pity. — Her eye opes. 
And Heaven in it seems to ope, that late was shut. 
To take me up to mercy. 

Diich. Antonio ! ^ 340 

Bos. Yes, madam, he is Kving ; 
The dead bodies you saw were but feigned statues : 
He's reconciled to your brothers ; the Pope hath wrought 
The atonement.- 

Duch. Mercy ! {^Dies. 

Bos. O, she's gone again ! there the cords of life broke. 
O sacred innocence, that sweetly sleeps 
On turtles' feathers, whilst a guilty conscience 

1 " The idea of making the Duchess speak after she has been strangled, 
was doubtless taken from the death of Desdemona in Othello, v, last scene." 
— Dyce. 

2 Reconciliation. 



582 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act V. 

Is a black register wherein is writ 

All our good deeds and bad, a perspective 

That shows us hell ! That we cannot be suffered 350 

To do good when we have a mind to it ! 

This is manly sorrow ; 

These tears, I am very certain, never grew 

In my mother's milk : my estate is sunk 

Below the degree of fear : where were 

These penitent fountains while she was living? 

O, they were frozen up ! Here is a sight 

As direful to my soul as is the sword 

Unto a wretch hath slain his father. Come, 

I'll bear thee hence, 360 

And execute thy last will ; that's deliver 

Thy body to the reverend dispose 

Of some good women : that the cruel tyrant 

Shall not deny me. Then I'll post to Milan, 

Where somewhat I will speedily enact 

Worth my dejection. [Exit. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — A Public Place in Milan. 
Enter Antonio and Delio. 

Ant. What think you of my hope of reconcilement 
To the Arragonian brethren? 

Delio. I misdoubt it ; 
For though they have sent their letters of safe-conduct 
For your repair to Milan, they appear 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 583 

But nets to entrap you. The Marquis of Pescara, 

Under whom you hold certain lands in cheat, 

Much 'gainst his noble nature hath been moved 

To seize those lands ; and some of his dependants 

Are at this instant making it their suit 

To be invested in your revenues. 10 

I cannot think they mean well to your life 

That do deprive you of your means of life, 

Your livino;. 

Afit. You are still an heretic 
To any safety I can shape myself. 

Dclio. Here comes the marquis : I will make myself 
Petitioner for some part of your land, 
To know whither it is flying. 

Ant. I pray do. 

Enter Pescara. 

Delio. Sir, I have a suit to you. 

Pes. To me ? 

Delio. An easy one : 
There is the Citadel of Saint Bennet, 

With some demesnes, of late in the possession 20 

Of Antonio Bologna, — please you bestow them on me. 

Pes. You are my friend ; but this is such a suit, 
Not fit for me to give, nor you to take. 

Delio. No, sir? 

Pes. I will give you ample reason for't 
Soon in private : — here's the cardinal's mistress. 

Enter Julia. 

Julia. My lord, I am grown your poor petitioner, 
And should be an ill beggar, had I not 



584 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 

A great man's letter here, the cardinal's, 

To court you in my favour. \_Gwes a letter. 

Pes. He entreats for you . 
The Citadel of Saint Bennet, that belonged 30 

To the banished Bologna. 

Julia. Yes. 

Pes. I could not have thought of a friend I could rather 
Pleasure with it : 'tis yours. 

Julia. Sir, I thank you ; 
And he shall know how doubly I am engaged 
Both in your gift, and speediness of giving 
Which makes your grant the greater. \_Exit. 

Ant. How they fortify 
Themselves with my ruin ! 

Delio. Sir, I am 
Little bound to you. 
Pes. Why? 

Delio. Because you denied this suit to me, and gave't 
To such a creature. 

Pes. Do you know what it was ? 40 

It was Antonio's land ; not forfeited 
By course of law, but ravished from his throat 
By the cardinal's entreaty : it were not fit 
I should bestow so main ^ a piece of wrong 
Upon my friend ; 'tis a gratification 
Only due to a strumpet, for it is injustice. 
Shall I sprinkle the pure blood of innocents 
To make those followers I call my friends 
Look ruddier upon me ? I am glad 

This land, ta'en from the owner by such wrong, 50 

Returns again unto so foul an use 

1 Mighty, important; (Latin magnus). 



SCENE I.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 585 

As salary for his lust. Learn, good Delio, 
To ask noble things of me, and you shall find 
I'll be a noble giver. 

Delio. You instruct me well. 

Ant. Why, here's a man now would fright impudence. 
From sauciest beggars. 

Pes. Prince Ferdinand's come to Milan, 
Sick, as they give out, of an apoplexy ; 
But some say 'tis a frenzy : I am going 
To visit him. \^Exit. 

Ant. 'Tis a noble old fellow. 

Delio. What course do you mean to take, Antonio? 60 

Ant. This night I mean to venture all my fortune. 
Which is no more than a poor lingering life. 
To the cardinal's worst of malice : I have got 
Private access to his chamber ; and intend 
To visit him about the mid of night, 
As once his brother did our noble duchess. 
It may be that the sudden apprehension 
Of danger, — for I'll go in mine own shape, — 
When he shall see it fraight ^ with love and duty. 
May draw the poison out of him, and work 70 

A friendly reconcilement : if it fail. 
Yet it shall rid me of this infamous calhng ; 
For better fall once than be ever falling. 

Delio. I'll second you in all danger ; and, howe'er, 
My life keeps rank with yours. 

Ant. You are still my loved and best friend. \_Exeunt. 

1 Fraught. 



586 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act V. 

Scene IL — A Galle7-y in the Cardinal's Palace at Milan. 
E7iter Pescara and Doctor. 

Pes. Now, doctor, may I visit your patient? 

Doc. If t please your lordship : but he's instantly 
To take the air here in the gallery 
By my direction. 

Pes. Pray thee, what's his disease ? 

Doc. A very pestilent disease, my lord, 
They call lycanthropia. ^ 

Pes. What's that? 
I need a dictionary to't. 

Doc. I'll tell you. 
In those that are possessed with't there o'erflows 
Such melancholy humour they imagine 

Themselves to be transformed into wolves ; lo 

Steal forth to churchyards in the dead of night, 
And dig dead bodies up : as two nights since 
One met the duke 'bout midnight in a lane 
Behind Saint Mark's church, with the leg of a man 
Upon his shoulder ; and he howled fearfully ; 
Said he was a wolf, only the difference 

1 " A kind of melancholy, but strangely black and vehement. For those 
attacked by it quit their houses in the month of February, imitate wolves in 
almost every respect, and each night do but frequent cemeteries and grave- 
yards. One of these melancholic lycanthropes, whom we call loups garoux, 
carried on his shoulders the whole thigh and leg of a corpse. There was 
also, as Job Fincel relates, a villager near Pavia in 1541 who believed that 
he was a wolf, and assailed several men in the fields, and killed some of 
them. At last, having been captured, but not without great difficulty, he 
firmly asserted that he was a wolf, and that there was no other difference 
except that wolves ordinarily were hairy outside, whereas he was hairy 
between his skin and flesh." — From the French of Goulart, Histoires 
admirables et memorables de nostre tetnps, 1620. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 587 

Was, a wolfs skin was hairy on the outside, 

His on the inside ; bade them take their swords, 

Rip up his flesh, and try : straight I was sent for, 

And, having ministered to him, found his grace 20 

Very well recovered. 

Pes. I am glad on't. 

Doc. Yet not without some fear 
Of a relapse. If he grow to his fit again, 
I'll go a nearer way to work with him 
Than ever Paracelsus dreamed of ; ^ if 
They'll give me leave, I'll buffet his madness out of him. 
Stand aside ; he comes. 

Enter Ferdinand, Cardinal, Malatesti, and Bosola. 

Ferd. Leave me. 

Mai. Why doth your lordship love this solitariness ? 

Fe7'd. Eagles commonly fly alone : they are crows, daws, 
and starlings that flock together. Look, what's that follows 
me? 31 

Mai. Nothing, my lord. 

Ferd. Yes. 

Mai. 'Tis your shadow. 

Ferd. Stay it : let it not haunt me. 

Mai. Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. 

Ferd. I will throttle it. 

\^Throws hi77is elf down on his shadow. 

Mai. O, my lord, you are angry with nothing. 

Ferd. You are a fool : how is't possible I should catch my 
shadow, unless I fall upon't? When I go to hell, I mean to 
carry a bribe ; for, look you, good gifts evermore make way 
for the worst persons. 42 

1 Paracelsus was born in 1493, died 1541. 



588 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 

Pes. Rise, good my lord. 

Ferd. I am studying the art of patience. 

Fes. 'Tis a noble virtue. 

Ferd. To drive six snails before me from this town to Mos- 
cow ; neither use goad nor whip to them, but let them take 
their own time ; — the patient'st man i' the world match me 
for an experiment ; — and I'll crawl after like a sheep-biter. 

Card. Force him up. [^They raise him. 50 

Fe?'d. Use me well, you were best. What I have done, 
I have done : I'll confess nothing.^ 

Doc. Now let me come to him. — Are you mad, my lord? 
are you out of your princely wits ? 

Ferd. What's he? 

Fes. Your doctor. 

Ferd. Let me have his beard sawed off, and his eyebrows 
filed more civil. 

Doc. I must do mad tricks with him, for that's the only 
way on't. — I have brought your grace a salamander's skin 
to keep you from sun-burning. 61 

Ferd. I have cruel sore eyes. 

Doc. The white of a cockatrix's egg is present remedy. 

Ferd. Let it be a new laid one, you were best. — 
Hide me from him : physicians are like kings, — 
They brook no contradiction. 

Doc. Now he begins to fear me : now let me alone with 
him. 

Card. How now ! put oif your gown ! ^ 

1 Cf. Othello, V, last scene, where lago says : 

" Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: 
From this time forth I never will speak word." 

2 " A piece of buffoonery. The stage direction (edition of 1708) is, ' puts 
off his four cloaks, one after another.' The Gravedigger in Hamlet used to 
do the same as late as 1830." — Dyce. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 589 

Doc. Now he begins to fear me. — Can you fetch a frisk, 
sir? — Let him go, let him go, upon my peril : I find by his 
eye he stands in awe of me ; I'll make him as tame as a 
dormouse. '^t^ 

Ferd. Can you fetch your frisks, sir ! — I will stamp him 
into a cuUis, flay off" his skin, to cover one of the anatomies^ 
this rogue hath set i' the cold yonder in Barber- Surgeon's- 
hall. — Hence, hence ! you are all of you like beasts for 
sacrifice : there's nothing left of you but tongue and belly. 

lExit. 

Pes. Doctor, he did not fear you throughly. 

Doc. True ; I was somewhat too forward. 80 

Bos. Mercy upon me, what a fatal judgment 
Hath fall'n upon this Ferdinand ! 

Pes. Knows your grace 
What accident hath brought unto the prince 
This strange distraction? 

Card, {aside). I must feign somewhat. — Thus they say 
it grew. 
You have heard it rumoured, for these many years 
None of our family dies but there is seen 
The shape of an old woman, which is given 
By tradition to us to have been murdered 
By her nephews for her riches. Such a figure 90 

One night, as the prince sat up late at's book, 
Appeared to him ; when crying out for help, 
The gentleman of s chamber found his grace 
All on a cold sweat, altered much in face 
And language : since which apparition. 
He hath grown worse and worse, and I much fear 
He cannot live. 

1 Skeletons. 



590 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT V. 

Bos. Sir, I would speak with you. 

Pes. We'll leave your grace, 
Wishing to the sick prince, our noble lord, 
All health of mind and body. 

Card. You are most welcome. loo 

\_Exeunt Pescara, Malatesti, and Doctor. 
Are you come ? so. — {Aside) This fellow must not know 
By any means I had intelligence 
In our duchess' death ; for, though I counselled it, 
The full of all the engagement seemed to grow 
From Ferdinand. — Now, sir, how fares our sister? 
I do not think but sorrow makes her look 
Like to an oft-dyed garment : she shall now 
Taste comfort from me. Why do you look so wildly? 
O, the fortune of your master here the prince 
Dejects you ; but be you of happy comfort : no 

If you'll do one thing for me I'll entreat, 
Though he had a cold tombstone o'er his bones, 
I'd make you what you would be. 

Bos. Any thing ; 
Give it me in a breath, and let me fly to't : 
They that think long small expedition win. 
For musing much o' the end cannot begin. 

Enter Julia. 

Julia. Sir, will you come in to supper? 
Card. I am busy ; leave me. 

Julia {aside) . What an excellent shape hath that fellow ! 

\_Exit 
Card. 'Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan : 120 

Inquire him out, and kill him. While he lives. 
Our sister cannot marry ; and I have thought 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 



591 



Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me 
Thy advancement. 

Bos. But by what means shall I find him out? 

Card. There is a gentleman called Delio 
Here in the camp, that hath been long approved 
His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow ; 
Follow him to mass ; may be Antonio, 

Although he do account religion 130 

But a school-name, for fashion of the world 
May accompany him ; or else go inquire out 
Delio's confessor, and see if you can bribe 
Him to reveal it. There are a thousand ways 
A man might find to trace him ; as to know 
What fellows haunt the Jews for taking up 
Great sums of money, for sure he's in want ; 
Or else to go to the picture-makers, and learn 
Who bought her picture lately : some of these 
Happily may take. 

Bos. Well, I'll not freeze i' the business : 140 

I would see that wretched thing, Antonio, 
Above all sights i' the world. 

Card. Do, and be happy. \_Exit. 

Bos. This fellow doth breed basilisks in's eyes, 
He's nothing else but murder ; yet he seems 
Not to have notice of the duchess' death. 
'Tis his cunning : I must follow his example ; 
There cannot be a surer way to trace 
Than that of an old fox. 

Re-enter Julia. 

Julia. So, sir, you are well met. 
Bos. How now ! 



592 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT V. 

Julia. Nay, the doors are fast enough : 
Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery. 150 

Bos. Treachery ! 

Julia. Yes, confess to me 
Which of my women 'twas you hired to put 
Love-powder into my drink? 

Bos. Love-powder ! 

Julia. Yes, when I was at Malfi. 
Why should I fall in love with such a face else ? 
I have already suffered for thee so much pain, 
The only remedy to do me good 
Is to kill my longing. 

Bos. Sure, your pistol holds 
Nothing but perfumes or kissing- comfits.^ 
Excellent lady ! 160 

You have a pretty way on't to discover 
Your longing. Come, come, I'll disarm you, 
And arm you thus : yet this is wondrous strange. 

Julia. Compare thy form and my eyes together. 
You'll find my love no such great miracle. 
Now you'll say 

I am wanton : this nice modesty in ladies 
Is but a troublesome familiar 
That haunts them. 

Bos. Know you me, I am a blunt soldier. 170 

Julia. The better : 
Sure, there wants fire where there are no lively sparks 
Of roughness. 

Bos. And I want compliment. 

Julia. Why, ignorance 
In courtship cannot make you do amiss, 

1 Perfumed sugar-plums for the breath. 



SCENE 11.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 



593 



If you have a heart to do well. 
Bos. You are very fair. 

Julia. Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, 
I must plead unguilty. 

Bos. Your bright eyes 
Carry a quiver of darts in them shajrper i8o 

Than sunbeams. 

Julia. You will mar me with commendation. 
Put yourself to the charge of courting me, 
Whereas now I woo you. 

Bos. {aside). I have it, I will work upon this creature. — 
Let us grow most amorously familiar : 
If the great cardinal now should see me thus, 
Would he not count me a villain ? 

Julia. No ; he might count me a wanton. 
Not lay a scruple of offence on you ; 

For if I see and steal a diamond, 190 

The fault is not i' the stone, but in me the thief 
That purloins it. I am sudden with you : 
We that are great women of pleasure use to cut off 
These uncertain wishes and unquiet longings, 
And in an instant join the sweet delight 
And the pretty excuse together. Had you been i' the street, 
Under my chamber-window, even there 
I should have courted you. 

Bos. O, you are an excellent lady ! 

Julia. Bid me do somewhat for you presently 200 

To express I love you. 

Bos. I will ; and if you love me, 
Fail not to effect it. 

The cardinal is grown wondrous melancholy ; 
Demand the cause, let him not put you off 



594 THE DUCHESS OF MALFl. [act V. 

With feigned excuse ; discover the main ground on't. 

Julia. Why would you know this ? 

Bos. I have depended on him, 
And I hear that he is fall'n in some disgrace 
With the emperor : if he be, hke the mice 
That forsake faUing houses, I would shift 
To other dependance. 

Julia. You shall not need 210 

Follow the wars : I'll be your maintenance. 

Bos. And I your loyal servant : but I cannot 
Leave my calHng. 

Julia. Not leave an ungrateful 
General for the love of a sweet lady ! 
You are like some cannot sleep in feather-beds, 
But must have blocks for their pillows. 

Bos. Will you do this ? 

Julia. Cunningly. 

Bos. To-morrow I'll expect the inteUigence. 

Julia. To-morrow ! get you into my cabinet ; 
You shall have it with you. Do not delay me, 220 

No more than I do you : I am like one 
That is condemned ; I have my pardon promised. 
But I would see it sealed. Go, get you in : 
You shall see me wind my tongue about his heart 
Like a skein of silk. \^Exit Bosola. 

Re-enter Cardinal. 

Card. Where are you? 

Enter Servants. 
Servants. Here. 

Card. Let none, upon your lives, have conference 
With the Prince Ferdinand, unless I know it. — 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 595 

{Aside) In this distraction he may reveM 

The murder. [_Exeunt Servants. 

Yond's my hngering consumption : 
I am weary of her, and by any means 230 

Would be quit of. 

Julia. How now, my lord ! what ails you ? 
Card. Nothing. 

Julia. O, you are much altered : 
Come, I must be your secretary, and remove 
This lead from off your bosom : what's the matter? 
Cat^d. I may not tell you. 

Julia. Are you so far in love with sorrow 
You cannot part with part of it ? or think you 
I cannot love your grace when you are sad 
As well as merry? or do you suspect 

I, that have been a secret to your heart 240 

These many winters, cannot be the same^ 
Unto your tongue? 

Card. Satisfy thy longing, — 
The only way to make thee keep my counsel 
Is, not to tell thee. 

Julia. Tell your echo this. 
Or flatterers, that hke echoes still report 
What they hear though most imperfect, and not me ; 
For if that you be true unto yourself, 
I'll know. 

Card. Will you rack me? 

Julia. No, judgment shall 
Draw it from you : it is an equal fault. 

To tell one's secrets unto all or none. 250 

Card. The first argues folly. 

1 Cf. this passage with / Henry IV, ii, 3. 



596 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 

Julia. But the la«t tyranny. 

Card. Very well : why, imagine I have committed 
Some secret deed which I desire the world 
May never hear of. 

Julia. Therefore may not I know it? 
You have concealed for me as great a sin 
As adultery. Sir, never was occasion 
For perfect trial of my constancy 
Till now : sir, I beseech you — 

Card. You'll repent it. 

Julia. Never. 

Card. It hurries thee to ruin : I'll not tell thee. 
Be well advised, and think what danger 'tis 260 

To receive a prince's secrets : they that do, 
Had need have their breasts hooped with adaniant 
To contain them. I pray thee, yet be satisfied ; 
Examine thine own frailty ; 'tis more easy 
To tie knots than unloose them : 'tis a secret 
That, Hke a Hngering poison, may chance lie 
Spread in thy veins, and kill thee seven year hence. 

Julia. Now you dally with me. 

Card. No more ; thou shalt know it. 
By my appointment the great Duchess of Malfi 
And two of her young children, four nights since, 270 

Were strangled. 

Julia. O Heaven ! sir, what have you done ? 

Card. How now ? how settles this ? think you your bosom 
Will be a grave dark and obscure enough 
For such a secret ? 
Julia. You have undone yourself, sir. 

Card. Why? 
Julia. It lies not in me to conceal it. 



SCENE II.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 597 

Card. No? 
Come, I will swear you to't upon this book. 
Julia. Most religiously. 

Card. Kiss it. \^She kisses the book. 

Now you shall never utter it ; thy curiosity 
Hath undone thee : thou'rt poisoned with that book ; 
Because I knew thou couldst not keep my counsel, 2S0 

I have bound thee to't by death. 

Re-enter BosOLA. 

Bos. For pity-sake, hold ! 

Card. Ha, Bosola ! 

Julia. I forgive you 
This equal piece of justice you have done ; 
For I betrayed your counsel to that fellow : 
He overheard it ; that was the cause I said 
It lay not in me to conceal it. 

Bos. O foolish woman, 
Couldst not thou have poisoned him? 

Julia. 'Tis weakness. 
Too much to think what should have been done. I go, 
I know not whither. \_Dies. 

Card. Wherefore com'st thou thither? 290 

Bos. That I might find a great man like yourself. 
Not out of his wits as the Lord Ferdinand, 
To remember my service. 

Card. I'll have thee hewed in pieces. 

Bos. Make not yourself such a promise of that life 
Which is not yours to dispose of. 

Card. Who placed thee here? 

Bos. Her lust, as she intended. 

Card. Very well : 



598 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 

Now you know me for your fellow-murderer. 

Bos. And wherefore should you lay fair marble colours 
Upon your rotten purposes to me ? 

Unless you imitate some that do plot great treasons, 300 

And when they have done, go hide themselves i' the graves 
Of those were actors in't ? 

Card. No more ; there is 
A fortune attends thee. 

Bos. Shall I go sue to Fortune any longer? 
'Tis the fool's pilgrimage. 

Card. I have honours in store for thee. 

Bos. There are many ways that conduct to seeming 
honour. 
And some of them very dirty ones. 

Card. Throw to the devil 
Thy melancholy. The fire burns well ; 
What need we keep a stirring oft, and make 
A greater smother? Thou wilt kill Antonio ? 310 

Bos. Yes. 

Card. Take up that body. 

Bos. I think I shall 
Shortly grow the common bier for churchyards. 

Card. I will allow thee some dozen of attendants 
To aid thee in the murder. 

Bos. O, by no means. Physicians that apply horse- 
leeches to any rank swelling used to cut off their tails, that 
the blood may run through them the faster ; let me have 
no train when I go to shed blood, lest it make me have a 
greater when I ride to the gallows. 

Card. Come to me after midnight, to help to remove 320 
That body to her own lodging : I'll give out 
She died o' the plague ; 'twill breed the less inquiry 



SCENE i:.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 599 

After her death. 

Bos. Where's Castruccio her husband? 

Card. He's rode to Naples, to take possession 
Of Antonio's citadel. 

Bos. Believe me, you have done a very happy turn. 

Card. Fail not to come : there is the master-key 
Of our lodgings ; and by that you may conceive 
What trust I plant in you. 

Bos. You shall find me ready. \_Exit Cardinal. 

O poor Antonio, though nothing be so needful 330 

To thy estate as pity, yet I find 
Nothing so dangerous ; I must look to my footing : 
In such slippery ice-pavements men had need 
To be frost-nailed well, they may break their necks else ; 
The precedent's here afore me. How this man 
Bears up in blood ! seems fearless ! Why, 'tis well : 
Security some men call the suburbs of hell. 
Only a dead wall between. Well, good Antonio, 
I'll seek thee out ; and all my care shall be 
To put thee into safety from the reach 340 

Of these most cruel bitprs that have got 
Some of thy blood already. It may be, 
I'll join with thee in a most just revenge : 
The weakest arm is strong enough that strikes 
With the sword of justice. Still methinks the duchess 
Haunts me : there, there ! 'Tis nothing but my melancholy. 
O Penitence, let me truly taste thy cup. 
That throws men down only to raise them up ! \^Exit} 

1 The numbering of the Hnes in this scene, and in other parts of this 
volume, is only approximately exact : for in the Elizabethan plays many 
passages are printed as blank verse that cannot possibly be scanned. 



6oo THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 

Scene III. — A Fortification at Milan. 
Enter Antonio and Delio. 

Delia. Yond's the cardinal's window. This fortification 
Grew from the ruins of an ancient abbey ; 
And to yond side o' the river Hes a wall, 
Piece of a cloister, which in my opinion 
Gives the best echo that you ever heard, 
So hollow and so dismal, and withal 
So plain in the distinction of our words, 
That many have supposed it is a spirit 
That answers. 

Ant. I do love these ancient ruins. 
We never tread upon them but we set lo 

Our foot upon some reverend history : 
And, questionless, here in this open court, 
Which now lies naked to the injuries 
Of stormy weather, some men lie interred 
Loved the church so well, and gave so largely to't, 
They thought it should have canopied their bones 
Till doomsday ; but all things have their end : 
Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men. 
Must have like death that we have. 

Echo. " Like death that we have." 20 

Delio. Now the echo hath caught you. 

Ant, It groaned, methought, and gave 
A very deadly accent. 

Echo. " Deadly accent." 

Delio. I told you 'twas a pretty one : you may make it 
A huntsman, or a falconer, a musician, 
Or a thing of sorrow. 



SCENE III.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 6oi 

Echo. " A thing of sorrow." 

Ant. Ay, sure, that suits it best. 

Echo. " That suits it best." 

Ant. 'Tis very Hke my wife's voice. 

Echo. " Ay, wife's voice." 

Delio. Come, let us walk further from't. 
I would not have you go to the cardinal's to-night : 
Do not. 

Echo. " Do not." 30 

Delio. Wisdom doth not more moderate wasting sorrow 
Than time : take time for't ; be mindful of thy safety. 

Echo. " Be mindful of thy safety." 

Ant. Necessity compels me : 
Make scrutiny throughout the passages 
Of your own life, you'll find it impossible 
To fly your fate. 

Echo. " O, fly your fate." 

Delio. Hark ! the dead stones seem to have pity on you, 
And give you good counsel. 

Ant. Echo, I will not talk with thee, 40 

For thou art a dead thing. 

Echo. " Thou art a dead thing." 

Ant. My duchess is asleep now, 
And her httle ones, I hope sweetly : O Heaven, 
Shall I never see her more ? 

Echo. " Never see her more." 

Ant. I marked not one repetition of the echo 
But that ; and on the sudden a clear light 
Presented me a face folded in sorrow. 

Delio. Your fancy merely. 

Afit. Come, I'll be out of this ague, 
For to live thus is not indeed to live ; 50 



602 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT V. 

It is a mockery and abuse of life : 

I will not henceforth save myself by halves ; 

Lose all, or nothing. 

Delia. Your own virtue save you ! 
I'll fetch your eldest son, and second you : 
It may be that the sight of his own blood 
Spread in so sweet a figure may beget 
The more compassion. However, fare you well. 
Though in our miseries Fortune have a part, 
Yet in our noble sufferings she hath none : 
Contempt of pain, that we may call our own. [^Exeunt. 60 



Scene IV. — An Apartment in the Cardinal's Palace. 

Enter Cardinal, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and 
Grisolan. 

Ca7'd. You shall not watch to-night by the sick prince ; 
His grace is very well recovered. 

Mai. Good my lord, suffer us. 

Card. O, by no means ; 
The noise, and change of object in his eye, 
Doth more distract him : I pray, all to bed ; 
And though you hear him in his violent fit. 
Do not rise, I entreat you. 

Pes. So, sir ; we shall not. 

Card. Nay, I must have you promise 
Upon your honours, for I was enjoined to't 
By himself; and he seemed to urge it sensibly. 

Pes. Let our honours bind this trifle. 

Card. Nor any of your followers. 

Mai. Neither. 



SCENE IV.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 603 

Card. It may be, to make trial of your promise, 
When he's asleep, myself will rise and feign 
Some of his mad tricks, and cry out for help, 
And feign myself in danger. 

Mai. If your throat were cutting, 
I'd not come at you, now I have protested against it. 

Card. Why, I thank you. 

Gris. 'Twas a foul storm to-night. 20 

Rod. The Lord Ferdinand's chamber shook like an osier. 

Mai. 'Twas nothing but pure kindness in the devil. 
To rock his own child. [^Exeunt all except the Cardinal. 

Card. The reason why I would not suffer these 
About my brother, is, because at midnight 
I may with better privacy convey 
Julia's body to her own lodging. O, my conscience ! 
I would pray now ; but the devil takes away my heart 
For having any confidence in prayer. 

About this hour I appointed Rosola 30 

To fetch the body : when he hath served my turn, 
He dies. \_Extt. 

Enter Bosola. 

Bos. Ha ! 'twas the cardinal's voice ; I heard him name 
Bosola and my death. Listen ; I hear one's footing. 

Enter Ferdinand. 

Ferd. Strangling is a very quiet death. 

Bos. {aside). Nay, then, I see I must stand upon my 

guard. 
Ferd. What say you to that ? whisper softly ; do you 
agree to't ? So ; it must be done i' the dark : the cardinal 
would not for a thousand pounds the doctor should see it. 

\_Exit. 



6o4 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT V. 

Bos. My death is plotted; here's the consequence of 
murder. 40 

We vakie not desert nor Christian breath, 
When we know black deeds must be cured with death. 

Enter Antonio a7id Servant. 

Serv. Here stay, sir, and be confident, I pray : 
I'll fetch you a dark lantern. \^Exit. 

Ant. Could I take him at his prayers,^ 
There were hope of pardon. 

Bos. Fall right, my sword ! — \^Stabs him. 

I'll not give thee so much leisure as to pray. 

Ant. O, I am gone ! Thou hast ended a long suit 
In a minute. 

Bos. What art thou ? 

Ant. A most wretched thing. 
That only have thy benefit in death, 
To appear myself. 

Re-e7iter Servant with a lajitern. 

Serv. Where are you, sir? 50 

Aiit. Very near my home. — Bosola ! 

Serv. O, misfortune ! 

Bos. Smother thy pity, thou art dead else. — Antonio ! 
The man I would have saved 'bove mine own life ! 
We are merely the stars' tennis-balls, struck and bandied 
Which way please them. — O good Antonio, 
I'll whisper one thing in thy dying ear 
Shall make thy heart break quickly ! thy fair duchess 
And two sweet children — 

Ant. Their very names 
Kindle a Httle life in me. 

1 Cf. Hamlet, iii, 3. 



SCENE IV.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 605 

Bos. Are murdered. 

Aiit. Some men have wished to die 60 

At the hearing of sad things ; I am glad 
That I shall do't in sadness^ : I would not now 
Wish my wounds balmed nor healed, for I have no use 
To put my life to. In all our quest of greatness, 
Like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, 
We follow after bubbles blown in the air. 
Pleasure of hfe, what is't ? only the good hours 
Of an ague ; merely a preparative to rest. 
To endure vexation. I do not ask 

The process of my death ; only commend me 70 

To Delio. 

Bos. Break, heart ! 

Ant. And let my son fly the courts of princes. \^Dies. 

Bos. Thou seem'st to have loved Antonio? 

Serv. I brought him hither, ^ 
To have reconciled him to the cardinal. 

Bos. I do not ask thee that. 
Take him up, if thou tender thine own life. 
And bear him where the lady Julia 
Was wont to lodge. — O, my fate moves swift ; 
I have this cardinal in the forge already ; 
Now I'll bring him to the hammer. O direful misprision ^ ! 
I will not imitate things glorious, 81 

No more than base ; I'll be mine own example. — 
On, on, and look thou represent, for silence. 
The thing thou bear'st. \_Exeunt 

1 Seriousness. 2 Neglect, oversight; hence, mistake. 



6o6 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [act v. 

Scene V. — Another Apartment in the Same. 

Enter Cardinal, with a book. 

Card. I am puzzled in a question about hell : 
He says, in hell there's one material fire, 
And yet it shall not burn all men alike. 
Lay him by. How tedious is a guilty conscience ! 
When I look into the fish-ponds in my garden, 
Methinks I see a thing armed with a rake, 
That seems to strike at me. 

Enter Bosol.\, and Servant bearing Antonio's body. 

Now, art thou come ? 
Thou look'st ghastly : 

There sits in thy face some great determination 
Mixed with some fear. 

Bos. Thus it lightens into action : lo 

I am come to kill thee. 

Card. Ha ! — Help ! our guard ! 

Bos. Thou art deceived ; 
They are out of thy howling. 

Card. Hold ; and I will faithfully divide 
Revenues with thee. 

Bos. Thy prayers and proffers 
Are both unreasonable. 

Card. Raise the watch ! we are betrayed ! 

Bos. I have confined your flight : 
I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber, 
But no further. 

Card. Help ! we are betrayed ! 



SCENE v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 607 

Efiter, above^ Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and 
Grisolan. 

MaL Listen. 

Card. My dukedom for rescue ! 

Rod. Fie upon his counterfeiting ! 20 

Mai. Why, 'tis not the cardinal. 

Rod. Yes, yes, 'tis he : 
But I'll see him hanged ere I'll go down to him. 

Card. Here's a plot upon me ; I am assaulted ! I am lost, 
Unless some rescue. 

Gris. He doth this pretty well ; 
But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honour. 

Card. The sword's at my throat ! 

Rod. You would not bawl so loud then. 

Mai. Come, come, let's go 
To bed : he told us thus much aforehand. 

Pes. He wished you should not come at him ; but, 
believe 't, 
The accent of the voice sounds not in jest : 30 

I'll down to him, howsoever, and with engines 
Force ope the doors. \_Exit above. 

Rod. Let's follow him aloof, 
And note how the cardinal will laugh at him. 

[^Exeunt, above, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan. 

Bos. There's for you first, 
'Cause you shall not unbarricade the door 
To let in rescue. {^Kills the Servant. 

Card. What cause hast thou to pursue my life ? 

Bos. Look there. 

Card. Antonio ! 

Bos. Slain by my hand unwittingly. 

1 The raised platform towards the back of the stage. 



6o8 THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT v. 

Pray, and be sudden : when thou killed'st thy sister, 
Thou took'st from Justice her most equal balance. 
And left her naught but her sword. 

Card. O, mercy ! 40 

Bos. Now it seems thy greatness was only outward ; 
For thou fall'st faster of thyself than calamity 
Can drive thee. I'll not waste longer time ; there ! 

\_Stabs him. 

Card. Thou hast hurt me. 

Bos. Again ! \_Stabs ht7n again. 

Card. Shall I die like a leveret, 

Without any resistance ? — Help, help, help ! 

I am slain ! 

Enter Ferdinand. 

Ferd. The alarum ! give me a fresh horse ; 
Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost. 
_Yield, yield ! I give you the honour of arms. 
Shake my sword over you ; will you yield ? 

Card. Help me ; I am your brother ! 

Ferd. The devil ! 
My brother fight upon the adverse party ! 50 

\^He wounds the Cardinal, and, in the scuffle, gives 
BosOLA his death-wound. 
There flies your ransom. 

Card. O justice ! 
I suffer now for what hath former bin : 
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.^ 

Ferd. Now you're brave fellows. Caesar's fortune was 
harder than Pompey's ; Caesar died in the arms of pros- 

1 Cf. Webster's White Devil, p. 44 (Dyce's edit.) : 

" 'Twere fit you'd think on what hath former bin; 
I heard grief nam'd the eldest child of sin." 



SCENE v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 609 

perity, Pompey at the feet of disgrace. You both died in 
the field. The pain's nothing : pain many times is taken 
away with the apprehension of greater, as the toothache with 
the sight of the barber that comes to pull it out : there's 
philosophy for you. i 60 

Bos. Now my revenge is perfect. — Sink, thou main 
cause \^Kills Ferdinand. 

Of my undoing ! — The last part of my life 
Hath done me best service. 

Ferd. Give me some wet hay ; I am broken-winded. 
I do account this world but a dog kennel : 
I will vault credit and affect high pleasures 
Beyond death. 

Bos. He seems to come to himself, 
Now he's so near the bottom. 

Ferd. My sister, O my sister ! there's the cause on't. 
Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, 70 

Like diamonds we are cut with our own dust. \^Dies. 

Card. Thou hast thy payment too. 

Bos. Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth ; 
'Tis ready to part from me. I do glory 
That thou, \diich stood'st like a huge pyramid 
Begun upon a large and ample base, 
Shalt end in a httle point, a kind of nothing. 

Enter below, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan. 

Pes. How now, my lord ! 

Mai. O sad disaster ! 

Rod. How comes this? 

Bos. Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi murdered 
By the Arragonian brethren ; for Antonio 80 

Slain by this hand ; for lustful Julia 



6lO THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. [ACT V. 

Poisoned by this man ; and lastly for myself, 

That was an actor in the main of all 

Much 'gainst mine own good nature, yet i' the end 

Neglected. 

Pes. How now, my lord ! 

Card. Look to my brother : 
He gave us these large wounds, as we were strugghng 
Here i' the rushes.^ And now, I pray, let me 
Be laid by and never thought of. \^Dies. 

Pes. How fatally, it seems, he did withstand 
His own rescue ! 

Mai. Thou wretched thing of blood ^ 90 

How came Antonio by his death? 

Bos. In a mist ; I know not how : 
Such a mistake as I have often seen 
In a play. O, I am gone I 
We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves, 
That, ruined, yield no echo. Fare you well. 
It may be pain, but no harm, to me to die 
In so good a quarrel. O, this gloomy world ! 
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness. 
Doth womanish and fearful mankind live ! 100 

Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrust 
To suffer death or shame for what is just : 
Mine is another voyage. \_Dies. 

Pes. The noble Delio, as I came to the palace^ 
Told me of Antonio's being here, and showed me 
A pretty gentleman, his son and heir. 

Enter Delio and Antonio's Son. 

Mai. O sir, you come too late ! 

1 Floors were commonly strewn with rushes. 

2 Cf. Coriolanus, ii, 2: "He was a thing of blood." 



SCENE v.] THE DUCHESS OF MALFI. 6ll 

Delia. I heard so, and 
Was armed for't, ere I came. Let us make noble use 
Of this great ruin ; and join all our force 
To establish this young hopeful gentleman no 

In's mother's right. These wretched eminent things 
Leave no more fame behind 'em, than should one 
Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow ; 
As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts. 
Both form and matter. I have ever thought 
Nature doth nothing so great for great men 
As when she's pleased to make them lords of truth : 
Integrity of life is fame's best friend, 
Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end. 

\_Exetmf. 



BOOKS ON ENGLISH LITERATURE. 



Allen .... Reader's Guide to English History $ .25 

Arnold . . , English Literature 1.50 

Bancroft . ^ A Method of English Composition 50 

Brpwne . . Shakespere Versification .25 

Fulton & Trueblood: Choice Readings 1.50 

Chart Illustrating Pri nciples of Vocal Expression, 2.00 

Genung . , Practical Elements of Rhetoric 1.25 

Gilmore . , Outlines of the Art of Expression 60 

Ginn .... Scott's Lady of the Lake . . . Bds., .35 ; Clot/i, .50 
Scott's Tales of a Grandfather . B^^s., .40 ; C/olA, .50 

Gummere . Handbook of Poetics i.oo 

Hudson . . Harvard Edition of Shakespeare : — 

20 Vol. Edition. Cloth, retail 25.00 

10 Vol. Edition. Cloth, retail 20.00 

Life, Art, and Character of Shakespeare. 2 vols. 

Cloth, retail . 4.00 

New School Shakespeare. Cloth. Each Play . .45 

Old School Shakespeare, per play 20 

Expurgated Family Shakespeare 10.00 

Essays on Education, English Studies, etc • , .25 

Three Volume Shakespeare, per vol 1.25 

Text-Book of Poetry 1.25 

Text-Book of Prose 1.25 

Pamphlet Selections, Prose and Poetry . . . .15 

Classical English Reader i.oo 

Johnson . . Rasselas Bds,., .30 ; Cloth, .40 

Lee Graphic Chart of English Literature 25 

Martineau . The Peasant and the Prince . . Bds., .35 ; Cloth, .50 
Minto . . . Manual of English Prose Literature . . . .1.50 

Characteristics of English Poets 2.00 

Rolf e .... Craik's English of Shakespeare 90 

Scott . . . Guy Mannering Bds.^ .60 ; Cloth, .75 

Ivanhoe Bds,^ .60 ; Cloth, .75 

Talisman Bds., .50 ; Cloth, .60 

Rob Roy Bds.y .60 ; Cloth^ .75 

Sprague . Milton's Paradise Lost, and Lycidas ... 45 

Six Selections from Irving's Sketch-Book 

Bds.^ .25 ; Cloth, .35 

Swift . . . Gulliver's Travels Bds.,, .30 ; Cloth, .40 

Thorn .... Shakespeare and Chaucer Examinations . • • .00 



Copies sent to Teachers for Examination, ^ith a riew to Introdnctioa* 
on receipt of the Introduction Price given ahOTe. 



GINN & COMPANY,, Publishers, 

Boston, New York, and^'Chicagro. 



HIGHER ENGLISH. 



45 



Hudson's Life, Art and Characters of Shak e- 

speare (Revised Edition, 1882). By Henry N. Hudson, LL.D., Editor 
of " The Harvard Shakespeare^^ ^^ Expurgated School Shakespeare,^' etc. 
In 2 vols. i2mo. 969 pages. The chapters on King Henry VII I. , 
Hamlet, Julius Ccesar, and Macbeth, have also been re-w^ritten, and a 
full index of subjects added. Uniform in size with "The Harvard 
Shakespeare," and matches it in the following bindings: — 



Cloth 
Half-calf 



Retail Price, $4.c» per set; 
8.cx> " 



These two volumes contaia : — 

1 . The Life of Shakespeare. 

2. An Historical Sketch of the Origin and Growth of the Drama 

in England, discussing under this head Miracle-Plays, 
Moral-Plays, and Comedy and Tragedy. 

3. Shakespeare's Contemporaries . 

4. Shakespeare'' s Art, discussing under this head, Nature and 

Use of Art, Principles of Art, Dramatic Composition, 
Characterization, Humour, Style, Moral Spirit. 

5. Shakespeare's Characters, containing critical discourses on 

twenty-five of the Plays. 



E. P. Wtiipple, Boston : In the 
analysis of Shakespeare's characters 
Mr. Hudson puts forth all his force and 
subtlety of thought. He almost forgets 
that they are not actual beings, how- 
ever much they may be " real " beings. 
Shakespeare's characters have so taken 
real existence in his mind, that he 
unconsciously speaks of them as one 
speaks of persons he daily meets. This 
is the charm of his criticisms. His 
great object is to educate people into a 
solid knowledge of Shakepeare as well 
as to quicken their love for him ; and, 
in this educational purpose, he aims to 
delight the readers he instructs. 

H. H. FurneSB, the Shakespearian: 
I cannot refi-ain from recording my 
thorough admiration for Mr. Hudson's 

615 



aesthetic criticisms. No Shakespeare 
student can afford to overlook them. 

London AthenaBum: They de- 
serve to find a place in every library 
devoted to Shakespeare, to editions 
of his works, to his biography, or to 
the works of commentators. 

Hon. G. S. Hillard: When any 
one differs from Mr, Hudson's conclu- 
sions, it behooves him to examine well 
the grounds of his dissent. We can- 
not read anywhere a dozen pages of 
these volum«>s without admitting that 
we are conversing with a thinker, and 
not merely a scholar. His views, be 
they deemed right or wrong, sound or 
unsound, are unborrowed. They are 
coined in his own mint, and bear hi» 
image an^ superscription. 



I'' %. 









^ .o'5 



,^^- 



>-^. 



*..0^ 



■V. ,^v 



oo 

V^^ -^c^ 



»^ -^^ '^:^ 



'^<'<i^' 



"^ ^> 



^'^ 







> - ' ^j- 



>*^' 









'; >^ V*'' -^^iT^'^-'^ 



O^ s s ' «■ ^ 



:^^^ 



.0^ 









■^>' .s^^' 



-"^^ 



^Oo^ 



"^o Sff?^''"''"9»he Bookkeeper process 

O^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 

Treatment Date: Jan. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

,^^^ c^ A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

,. 'f • 111 Thomson Park Drive 









1> V 



^•■^ 



^ '^ •' ^ ^ .^0^ 



^^ 



O N c 















,^^V *^^%f />)'^^ -^ ^<;'^^ 






-^^ 






.^^^'\' 






A^ 



'-.,^^ 



V'-^V 



.>^ ''^ 



V *«, v'-^vi^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




013 997 714 2 # 



\<i',^\* 



[iUh 



Wr^'B. 






im<^ 



:!!^!;:|i 



\im 



<:U 






m^Uh^t 



'KM 



.w'J 



^^*w,) 



m 
mi 



:UA' 



■.'\>'. 






't^-^iH 









i!^ 



!r-^< 



. i<y 









ill 



im 



s\-.i\:i'\}:m 






f-.,UI 



, f I > ? ^ ' / 









j: 



ii'i 



! i;.'ti 



